


Oceans Apart

by writingfromdarkplaces



Series: How Can We Say Forever [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Case Fic, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 63,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromdarkplaces/pseuds/writingfromdarkplaces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After months of believing his job was coming between them, Jake gets an offer for a position in London, setting off a chain of events that changes everything.</p><p>Semi-sequel to Sawdust and Consolation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sawdust and Consolation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7809037) by [writingfromdarkplaces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromdarkplaces/pseuds/writingfromdarkplaces). 



> So, after I started Sawdust and Consolation, I came up with not one, but several, ideas of how to undo or avoid the poor choices I think were made in season thirteen. This one was among the more persistent, reminding me of something I'd done before, but also opening up a few possibilities for other things.
> 
> This is, of course, sort of a sequel to Sawdust, but... I'm not going to officially list it as that because I can see Sawdust also possibly launching an AU that's closer to canon, and so it should probably stand a bit on its own since it's such a nice jumping off place. 
> 
> I have a whole case/plot coming here. Hopefully, I won't screw that up as I have in the past.

* * *

“This seems to have become a habit,” Gibbs observed, looking up as his guest entered his basement. He wasn't surprised anymore to have visitors. He knew they'd come, and he knew where they'd end up in the end. He set down his tools and went to the workbench.

“Enough of one where I'm pretty much obligated to give this to you,” Malloy said, holding out a bottle. Expensive, probably ten times the price of his usual brand. Gibbs turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over the label. “I'm afraid I don't know your preference as to brands or—”

“This is fine,” Gibbs said. It was. He'd even call it better than fine, but he didn't need the other man thinking he had to spend money like that every time he came down or gave any other kind of gift. “Though you're not.”

Malloy looked at him, forcing a small smile. “All that from one little bottle?”

“At that price, you bet your ass,” Gibbs said, opening it up and pouring them each a glass. “Spit it out. Unless the words you're about to say are that you cheated on Bishop.”

Malloy spit out his drink. “Why would you say that? Why would you think I'd even—I'd be a fool to do it even if I was that kind of man. You'd know before I got halfway through with the thought, and then I'd probably never be found again because you protect your people, and Ellie has become one of yours.”

Gibbs nodded. Damn straight, and it was good Malloy knew it.

“I got a job offer,” Malloy blurted out, then drank enough to make himself cough, burned by the quality he obviously wasn't used to, either. “In London.”

“Going to pack up and move across the pond, are you?”

Malloy grimaced. “It's not—I've given a lot of thought to whether or not my job was the reason for our problems. The fact that my work is classified, that we can't talk like we used to... It's hard not to draw the obvious conclusion there—if I changed jobs somehow, I'd save my marriage.”

“You could do it without the switch.”

That made Malloy frown. “Are you saying that I should just tell her everything that I do even if she doesn't have clearance?”

“It _is_ an option.”

“Only if I want to betray everything and everyone I know and stood for. I took an oath, signed documents, gave my word. I can't do that, not even for Ellie. I bent the rules for her—technically, NSA didn't need to hold onto the jurisdiction—and I don't regret it, but it is a dangerous step. That kind of slope is slippery, and when one is navigating territory that's already murky and part of an ethical quagmire to begin with...” Malloy shook his head. “I can't allow myself to start. I don't know where I'd end up drawing the line. I'm not sure Ellie sees it. I think she assumes I can bend the rules without losing myself. I suppose I should be flattered that she has that kind of faith in me. I don't.”

Gibbs wasn't sure if Malloy's humility was refreshing or a sign the man needed a good smack in the head. He didn't care for an excess of ego, but sometimes a lack of self-esteem could be just as bad. “So you want to change jobs.”

“Not really,” Malloy said. “To be honest, I don't know why Ellie did, but... she made that choice, and it's been good for her. For me, though, I... It's difficult. It may seem hard to believe, but I became a lawyer to do good. To make a difference. I can't just transfer to some civilian firm and be happy doing it. I don't want to work to make other people money, and as I'm sure you're aware, my skill as an orator is almost non-existent. I can't see myself convincing anyone in a courtroom, which rules out trial law.”

“This offer is different.”

Nodding, Malloy finished his drink, and Gibbs refilled it, letting the other man find his words. A bit more liquid courage might get him past whatever he was holding back. 

“It's a chance to continue doing the sort of work I like, not too different from my role at NSA, but without the national security aspect, still a challenge and something that I feel has value,” Malloy said. “It's just...”

“It's in another country.”

“Exactly,” Malloy said. “I know that NCIS has divisions in England, and Ellie _could_ transfer if she wanted.”

“You're afraid she won't want to.”

“That, and NCIS isn't just about her work. I said it before—she found family with you. Transferring takes that away from her, and that's not what I want. I'm not trying to take anything from her. I want to make it work somehow, but I don't—I can't seem to reconcile the paths our lives seem to be taking. I don't know how to give her what she needs without losing what I need.” Malloy ran a hand over his face, almost knocking off his glasses. “That sounds selfish, doesn't it? I should just be able to quit and find something else here that—”

“You remember what I told you?”

Malloy cursed under his breath. “Not to make assumptions about what she wants or that I can decide what's best for her.”

Exactly. “You need to talk to her.”

“You think I haven't _tried?”_ Malloy set his glass down and started to pace. “I've tried. She's always on a case. She's home late every night, and even if I haven't fallen asleep before she gets in, she's out within minutes of being home. Our mornings are too rushed, and she has been working through lunch. I can't seem to get any time with her, despite asking for it.”

Gibbs watched him. “That worries you.”

“It's not that I think she's done anything like you accused me of. It's just... when we both admit our major problem seems to be that we never talk, it doesn't feel... good knowing that she seems to be _avoiding_ talking.”

“She'll make time,” Gibbs said. “When it's important, we always do.”

“Right.”

* * *

_“Go home, Bishop.”_

_She jerked, bringing her eyes up from the blank report on her desk, still seeing the bodies in front of her even as she faced Gibbs. She swallowed, trying to understand what had happened. Even when she killed someone, she hadn't felt like this. The way those women died, the sense of helplessness she'd had all through the case, she couldn't shake it._

_“Gibbs?”_

_“Home, Bishop. The report can wait.”_

_She nodded, gathering up her things in a blind haze, not sure how she got from her desk to the elevator. The ride down was a blur, and she ended up in the parking lot, staring at her car. Those women couldn't go home. Why should she?_

She looked down at her keys, not sure how long she'd been standing in front of her door, unable to make herself open it. She shook it off, turning the knob and going inside. She shut the door behind her, slid out of her coat and carried it over to the chair, dropping it and her bag onto the seat. She walked down the hallway and to the bathroom, shedding her clothes on the tile.

She took her nightgown off the back of the door, pulling it over her head and crossing into the bedroom. When she crossed the threshold, she heard a sleepy, “Ellie?”

She grimaced. She hadn't meant to wake him. “Jake.”

“What time is it?”

“Late,” she said, crawling into the bed. She didn't look at the clock. She didn't want to know. She wasn't sure she could sleep, not with those images in her head. “Go back to sleep.”

He shifted, turning toward her with a frown. “What happened? Something's wrong.”

“It's nothing,” she told him, her stomach twisting with her own words. She didn't know how to explain any of this, but she didn't feel right lying to him, either. “Just a long day.”

“Hmm. Can talk about it,” Jake said, sounding like he was getting more and more awake by the minute. She couldn't let that happen. If he woke up all the way, he'd want to talk, he'd push, just like he had been for a while.

She moved into him, curling up next to his side. “I just want to sleep, okay?”

He wrapped his arms around her, kissing her neck before leaning his head against hers. She felt him start to relax again, wishing she felt like she could do the same. She waited, hoping hearing his even breathing would soothe her enough to make sleep come. She had relied on it before, letting his presence help her settle after some of the worst things she'd seen at the NSA or NCIS. She needed this.

Even with all of their problems, this still worked, still helped. Being with Jake was home and safety, even if she was the one who carried the gun and could protect herself. She closed her eyes, relieved when she didn't see the bodies again.

Jake's voice was so soft that if she hadn't been nestled against him, she wouldn't have heard it at all. “I wish you'd talk to me, Ellie.”

Despite the guilt curling in her gut, she winced and said nothing.

* * *

“Jake,” Tony said, catching sight of the other man coming out of the elevator. That was one great advantage to this desk, and no one had better ever take it away from him. He smiled as he set down his phone. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

“I was looking for Ellie, actually,” Jake said, his eyes darting around the office. “She's not here?”

“Out on a case. You try her cell?”

Jake nodded. “Called, texted... I figured it was a long shot, but I haven't been able to pin her down for what feels like forever.”

Tony leaned back in his chair. He sensed something here, and he couldn't help the curiosity. Bishop had been conspicuously quiet about her husband since she came to NCIS, and she'd even managed to keep him away from the office for about a year. He'd been starting to think the man wasn't real—or some kind of dirty secret. And now, here the man was standing in front of him, looking tense, his agitation intriguing.

“Something wrong, Malloy?”

The other man shook his head a bit too quickly. “No, nothing's wrong. I just—”

“You are a terrible liar for a lawyer.”

Jake winced. “It's not what you're thinking. I just haven't been able to talk to Ellie, and I know something's bothering her, but she won't tell me what it is. I was hoping if I could get her away from work for a while, she'd tell me.”

“That's it?”

Jake gave him a look. “Why does there have to be more?”

“That sounds a lot like there is.”

“Because you haven't seen it, have you? You don't think there's anything going on with Ellie, and you're throwing suspicion back on me as a defense mechanism,” Jake said, surprising Tony. What was this? Something the lawyer had picked up from his wife or could it be his new BFF?

“I've seen it,” Tony said, throwing the surprise back at him. “She's been a little off since that double murder. Hey, she's not pregnant, is she?”

“What?” Jake asked, staring at him in shock.

Oh, that was so worth it. Tony wished someone else had seen it. It was a shame McGee had missed it. Abby, too. “Relax, Malloy. While I think Bishop has been eating a bit more lately, she's still not quite doing it for two.”

Malloy nodded. “Okay. I—I have to get back. Would you tell her I came by?”

“Absolutely,” Tony said, knowing that he was going to share this story with everyone after Malloy was gone. He just needed McGee to dig up the security footage to get the film of that reaction because it was too damned priceless.

* * *

“Here,” Abby said, passing Bert to Bishop. The other woman frowned, but Abby made sure that he got a good squeeze. “You need this.”

Ellie frowned. “Am I that obvious?”

“Probably only to someone who knows you well,” Abby said, and the other woman grimaced. That told Abby a few things, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know them. Then again, she'd already been aware of them since Jake had tried her lab a few times looking for Ellie. “It's that case, isn't it?”

Bishop winced. “I can't get it out of my head, and I don't even know why. At the NSA, I analyzed terrorists. I saw horrible things, and this isn't even the worst murder we've ever worked. I don't know why it unsettled me so much.”

“Could be a cumulative thing,” Abby said, shrugging. “Sometimes it isn't just one thing but hundreds of them. You haven't been taking much time off lately, and without downtime to process, this could have packed an extra whammy you weren't expecting.”

Ellie grimaced. “I don't know that I believe that. I keep thinking if I could pin down what made me react the way I did to the case, I could make it stop.”

Abby nodded. She could see that, but it wasn't like it was that simple. “I think just about anyone would tell you it doesn't work that way. These things take time. And Bert, of course.”

Ellie gave the hippo a small smile. “He does help. Jake was joking about buying one for me the other day. He said they must be classified above his level because he can't find one anywhere.”

Abby bit her lip and twisted it for a second before she plunged ahead. “Have you talked to him about it at all?”

“Jake? This has nothing to do with him.”

Abby nodded. That was true, but she shared everything with Bert. From what Ellie had said in the past, she used to do the same with Jake. Maybe part of the problem with letting go of the case was that Ellie _hadn't_ discussed it with her husband. “So, back to the idea of downtime. You, me, maybe even Bert.”

Bishop nodded. “Sounds good. After work tonight?”

“Perfect.”

* * *

“You're making this too easy,” Gibbs said, scoring another point against Malloy. The other man grimaced, shaking his head. Gibbs bounced the ball against the floor preparing for a serve. “Head's not in the game.”

“I'd ask if it was obvious, but I know it is,” Malloy shook his head. He rubbed his face, sighing. “I got another call from the firm in London. They want an answer by tomorrow.”

“Thought they'd have made their decision by now.”

Malloy gestured to the ball, and Gibbs let it go. When it bounced back, the lawyer gave it a vicious hit with his racquet. “You mean, they should have gone with someone else by now because I dragged my feet about making a decision.”

“That sounds about right,” Gibbs said, picking up the return and passing it back to Malloy. “Interesting that they haven't.”

“I... I think they expected me to be flattered by their persistence,” Malloy said, knocking the ball back. “I almost am. I just wish I could talk to Ellie about it. About _anything._ She won't talk to me. I heard she went out with Abby the other night, but she still seems to be avoiding me. She's always working. Couldn't you have given her a day off? Half a day, even? Is that too much to ask?”

“Gave her time off,” Gibbs said, taking a swing. “Sent her home early at least four times in the last two weeks.”

The ball bounced back, hitting Malloy right in the chest. He didn't move out of its path, standing slack still. “I guess that settles it, doesn't it?”

Gibbs frowned. “Settles what?”

Malloy went to the other side of the room, picking up his water. He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. “She hasn't been home early for months. Wherever she's going, whatever she's doing, she doesn't talk to me about it. I have no idea where she's been. I know something's bothering her, but she won't tell me about it.”

“Malloy—”

“Thank you for the game, Gibbs. I have to go.”

* * *

“Ellie, we need to talk.”

She grimaced. How many times had she heard that from Jake in the last month? She'd lost count. She knew they did, and she knew he'd been trying, but she didn't know how to talk to him, especially not about the case that was still haunting her. She would have thought memories of killing someone would be harder, but she still couldn't shake these ones.

She didn't look at him as she closed down the files on her computer. They were about to go interview the victim's father, and she knew that it couldn't wait, not even for Jake.

“I can't right now,” she said, reaching into her desk drawer for her gun. “We're in the middle of a case and—”

“You're always in the middle of a case,” Jake said. He shook his head. “This can't wait. We have to do it now.”

“It's a murder, Jake. We're looking for a killer that could be getting away from us, and I don't have time right now to—”

“Make time,” Jake said. “My flight leaves in an hour.”

She stopped, staring at him, her eyes wide and her chest constricting a little as she did. “I don't—you didn't tell me you were going on any trips.”

“I tried to,” he said quietly, and she flinched. Somehow those words were worse than any outburst, any angry ones he might have thrown at her, even if they'd never really been the type for shouting matches.

“I've been busy,” she said. “We both have been working a lot and—”

“Don't,” he said, shaking his head and sounding pained. “Just don't. I know better, and I don't want to hear it again. It's not work. I thought, for the longest time, that was what it was, that my job had created the rift, but if it was just work, we could have overcome it.”

She swallowed, starting to shake her head. “No. You're not saying what I think you're—”

“I took a job in London. My flight leaves today.”

“You can't do this. Not without talking to me, without discussing—”

“I _tried,”_ he repeated. “I have tried every day to talk to you. I try in the morning, but if you're not already gone by the time I'm up, you're busy or change the subject. I try meeting you for lunch, I try surprising you with dinner—only to find you're not even at work anymore. I tried waiting up for you, but that just seemed to make you stay out later. You don't want to talk to me. I didn't believe it at first, couldn't accept it, but it's true. Whatever's going on with you, you won't share it, and you don't care about what's going on with me—”

“That is not true.”

He paused, biting his lip. “I wish I believed that, but you've been avoiding me, and I am not stupid. I don't know what I did or didn't do, but I know one thing. I can't do this anymore.”

She shook her head. “No. Don't—”

“I thought maybe changing jobs would fix what was wrong. Now... I'm just hoping the distance makes it hurt less,” he told her. “I'm sorry, Ellie. I really am.”

She choked, struggling to breathe and find words at the same time. She didn't know how to react to any of this. She grabbed hold of her desk, blinking back tears as he walked away. She sat back down, feeling weak.

She'd lost him. She'd been afraid of this since she joined NCIS, but she'd thought they could make it work. They'd find a way to talk again. They'd tried. This... It shouldn't be happening. It couldn't be real.

Only it was.

Jake was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie, Gibbs, and the team deal with the fallout of Jake leaving.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this has been a bit of a balancing act, trying to find a way to make plot work with characters with realistic emotions and not throwing the blame on the wrong party and... it was a bit of a mess. Still, I think it's kind of working. Mostly.

* * *

“Bishop? You still with us?” DiNozzo asked, going over to her desk. Gibbs watched, still reacting himself to that rather public display. That confrontation shouldn't have happened here, not in public, but then he doubted it had been planned. Malloy probably figured he'd run out of time, and he wasn't entirely wrong—another minute and they'd all have been gone.

“You okay?” McGee asked, darting a look at Gibbs before turning his attention to Bishop. “You know... I think... Maybe he...”

“He still has to go through security at the airport,” DiNozzo began when McGee faltered. “And he might not even be out of the parking lot yet. Say the word. We'll close the gates, go round him up. Maybe rough him up if that's what it—”

“DiNozzo,” Gibbs said, and the other man stopped, wincing. Bishop swallowed, lifting her head as she turned toward him. The tears were about to start, pooling at the sides of her eyes.

“You knew?” Bishop asked, her voice quiet and strained.

McGee stared at him. “Boss, really?”

“Damn. Why didn't you give him a good smack to the back of the head and talk some sense into him?” DiNozzo asked, shaking his head. “I mean, come on. You're BFFs, right? You could have stopped him.”

“Knew he'd gotten the job offer,” Gibbs corrected. “Didn't know he'd decided to take it.”

“But you _knew,”_ DiNozzo repeated. “You could have stopped him. You could have told him—”

“What, DiNozzo? How to live his life?” Gibbs demanded. He wasn't in a position to advise anyone on that, and he wasn't going to start. Malloy's life was his own business, even if they'd discussed it a few times. “He said he wanted to talk to Bishop about it, and that was the last I knew.”

“All due respect, that wasn't much of a conversation,” McGee said, giving Bishop another worried look.

“No, it wasn't,” Gibbs agreed. That hadn't been much of a discussion, but then Malloy was in a hurry and from what Gibbs could tell, barely holding himself together. If Bishop's responses had been different, he might never have made it to the elevator, and if Gibbs were to bet on it, he'd broken down as soon as the doors shut. He might even be waiting in the lot for Bishop to go after him, but he wouldn't wait long, couldn't afford to. “DiNozzo has a point. He hasn't left the country yet.”

Bishop's eyes shifted between all of them. She blinked, silent tears rolling down her cheeks. “I don't... I can't think...”

Gibbs picked up his phone, hitting a button and not really waiting for it to connect. “Abby. Get up here. Now.”

“Come here, Bish,” DiNozzo said, putting his arms around her. “It's okay. We'll make it right somehow. Like I said, you just tell us what you want. What you need. We'll get you down there and to the airport—”

“No,” Bishop said, pushing away from him. “I can't. Not now. I don't even know what to say.”

“Seems pretty simple to me,” Gibbs said, and she stopped, staring at him. “Either you tell him you don't want him to go or you don't.”

“I...” She shook her head. “I don't understand. How did it get this far? We had problems, but we were working on them. He... He said he wanted to talk, didn't he? It... He can't...”

DiNozzo and McGee exchanged a look. Gibbs knew what they were thinking. He gave them a nod over Bishop's head. Let them go. Malloy was out of the lot by now, but they might still catch him at the airport. He was willing to let them try. From what he'd seen, neither Bishop or Malloy actually wanted the marriage to end. It wasn't something he wanted to be involved in, but they were all neck deep in the middle of this disaster, and he needed his team focused, not distracted. This had everyone off their game.

“Gibbs, I'm here,” Abby called out, rushing into the room on her heeled boots, her hippo in her arms. “What do you—Oh, Bishop. What happened?”

“Jake...”

“He's all right, isn't he?” Abby asked, hugging her and making the hippo fart. “Ellie?”

“He left me, Abby. He... He's gone.”

* * *

“Report.”

Tony winced at Gibbs' tone. He wasn't surprised. They were supposed to be hunting a killer, and instead, they were trying to track down Bishop's husband, who'd shocked the hell out of everyone earlier. Gibbs was the only one not completely blindsided, but even he seemed surprised. He'd said Jake hadn't told him he was taking the job, and Tony believed it.

“It's not good, Boss.”

“Bishop may have been a little _too_ detailed in talking shop to her husband,” Tony agreed. “Though... from what they said at the NSA, he had to surrender his phone when he quit, so it wasn't all about dodging us.”

“Explain. Now.”

“When we tried to reach Jake on his phone, we were 'politely' informed by the NSA that he was no longer employed by them and that all further communication would have to be rerouted through proper channels,” McGee said. “I think they were concerned with who might be contacting him after he left so they had the number forwarded back to them. After that, we looked for Jake's flight, and we found he'd booked two of them. Two different airlines, two different airports. We didn't have time to check both of them.”

“We thought he must have been on the other flight,” Tony said. “He wasn't at the one we were able to reach.”

“You didn't call the other one?”

“We did. Turns out he didn't take that flight, either.”

“Someone explain what the hell is going on,” Gibbs barked out, making McGee wince. “What are we missing?”

“Um... Apparently Jake really wanted to go to London, and he didn't want us stopping him.”

Gibbs was quiet for a moment. “Get back here. Now.”

“Boss?”

“You still have a murderer to catch, or did you forget that?”

* * *

“You sure you want to do this?” Abby asked, looking over at Bishop. The other woman was quiet again, had been since she admitted that Jake left. Abby still didn't understand that. The way that Jake had been asking for her when he called, the way he always was when he was around her—oh, sure, Abby had seen them have a few little fights, too, but never anything major and never anything that said he wanted out of their marriage. He still seemed like a man hopelessly in love with the woman he'd married.

“I need to,” Ellie said, opening the door to her apartment, stepping inside. She looked around, shaking her head as she did. “He... He didn't take... The photos. He left all of our pictures.”

Abby nodded. From what she remembered, the apartment looked the same. Except for one little thing. “There. That envelope. Was that here when you left this morning?”

Bishop shook her head, walking over to pick up the envelope. She teared up again seeing the name on the front, and her hands trembled as she tried to open it.

“You want me to...?”

Ellie nodded, handing it over. Abby used the knife off her key ring to slice it open, taking out the letter and passing it to the other woman.

“Maybe you should sit down.”

Bishop shook her head. “I'm not... It's not long, Abby. He... He didn't say much.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Abby said, passing Bert to her. She had to admit, she wanted to see the letter for herself.

“I think you should stay with me,” Abby said, and Bishop stared at her. “Okay, maybe the goth thing isn't really what you need after losing Jake, but... you shouldn't stay here alone.”

Ellie looked around. “I don't want to. I don't. It... He's everywhere here. He didn't take the pictures. It sounds like he didn't take anything at all.”

“Ellie—”

Bishop dropped the letter as she ran back into the bedroom. Abby bit her lip and picked it up, wanting to look it over even though she knew better. She shook her head, folding it up and putting it away, forcing herself forward. She wasn't going to peek. She could always ask about it, and if Bishop wanted her to know, she'd tell her.

Still, she hoped that Tony and McGee had found Jake and stopped him from leaving. He needed to come back here and fix this. He'd broken something he had no right to break, and she was going to make sure he made it right.

“Hey.”

“His clothes are missing,” Bishop said, biting her lip. “It... It didn't seem real until I opened the closet, but it is, isn't it, Abby? He's gone.”

Abby gave her a big hug, telling herself she'd find him and drag him back herself if she had to.

* * *

“I don't have to stay here.”

“Relax, Bishop. It's not a problem.”

She folded her hands together, shaking her head. “It is. We were in the middle of an investigation, and instead of hunting a murderer, we've all been distracted by my marital problems that we could have let him slip away. Tony and McGee went after Jake, Abby left her lab to take me around to my apartment, and now you're letting me stay on your couch.”

“You're not the first agent who has,” Gibbs told her. “Stop worrying about it.”

She managed a small smile. “Should I be worried about Jake?”

“About one of us going all the way to England to hurt him?” Gibbs asked. He sat down on the seat across from her. “Bishop, I wasn't lying. He gave me no indication he intended to leave. In fact, I'd even go so far as to say he was desperate to find a way to stay.”

She nodded, pulling out the letter Jake had left in the apartment. “That... it's kind of what this sounds like, but I heard Abby talking to McGee. If Jake really intended our last conversation to be—if he wanted me to find him and stop him from leaving, why did he book two flights? And why didn't he use either of them?”

“Don't know,” Gibbs admitted. “It doesn't make sense to me.”

She bit her lip. “I think I need time away. Not... not in London, but away. Maybe... Maybe Oklahoma. I might go back and see my family. I need to think this through.”

“Take the time you need.”

She started to thank him, but the words from Jake's letter replayed in her head, and she felt sick again. She didn't know what to do, what to think.

_Ellie,_

_I'm sorry. I tried so hard to find a way to talk to you, to reach you, but I couldn't. I never found a way, and I hate myself for it. I do. I thought about it, agonized about it for weeks, months, even, and I wanted to talk to you so much, but we haven't been able to do that for so long, too long._

_I want you to be happy, and I know I'm no longer the one that makes you that way. You have NCIS, and it's what you need, what you want. I did a lot of soul searching, trying to find a way to fix what was wrong. I thought if I gave up the NSA, we might have something, but you know that it was never just about the agency. I couldn't go to just any other job, like you wouldn't have gone to any other job._

_London offered me what I thought I wanted, but I didn't want to take it without talking to you. When I couldn't, I had to make a choice. If you're reading this now, then I really wasn't able to reach you, even by telling you I was going, and I can't believe it's come to this._

_All I can say is that I'm sorry. More sorry than I can say._

_I love you. I always will._

_Jake_

She swallowed, looking over at Gibbs, needing an answer. “Was it my fault? Did I really give Jake no alternative but to leave?”

Gibbs shook his head. “He still had a choice. Maybe he didn't see it, but he did. Maybe London's the wake up call he needs. Make him get his head out of his ass.”

She laughed, but it died in a small choking sound. She lowered her head, sighing. “I don't understand how it got this bad. I think everyone's going to blame him, but it wasn't just him. It was me. I didn't know how to face him, and I drove him away.”

“Takes two people to make a marriage,” Gibbs said. “Or so my ex-wives always told me.”

She forced a smile.

“Try and get some rest, Bishop.”

* * *

Gibbs looked over at the empty desk. It had been a week since Bishop left for Oklahoma, and they'd had pretty much complete silence since then. He figured that had to be bothering the rest of his people, since they'd start squirming as soon as they realized she wasn't calling and no information would be forthcoming. He knew they'd been looking his direction, trying to find out if he knew anything. He didn't, but he wasn't about to tell them that.

His phone rang, and he yanked it up to his ear. “Gibbs.”

“I'm not sure if it's because you don't check caller id or if you're actually willing to talk to me, but I have to say, I'm grateful.”

“Malloy. Not someone I expected to hear from, considering.”

“Yes, well, I wasn't entirely sure who to call,” Malloy said, and Gibbs frowned, analyzing what he'd just heard in the other man's voice. “It does seem that my exit burned more than one bridge.”

“Not all of them. Not yet,” Gibbs told him, because something in his gut was telling him to listen. “Though you'd better have a good explanation for the wild goose chase.”

“What wild goose chase? What are you talking about?”

“Two plane tickets. Two airports. And a cowardly way out, if you ask me.”

“I only booked _one_ flight. I don't know what you're talking about. I knew that I'd be a mess after finally telling Ellie I was going, and I knew I'd never make it even if I had to have a flight leaving that day to... to make me go through with it. So I booked one at midnight, wanting to go when the airport would be almost empty and... and I guess I was still hoping that I wouldn't be leaving at all.”

Gibbs frowned again. “That doesn't track with what my people found. No record of a midnight flight. Two others that left at almost the same time, matching up to the approximate time that you gave Bishop.”

“Gibbs, I know that my word probably doesn't seem worth anything at the moment, but I swear, I did not book any other flights,” Malloy told him. “That doesn't even make sense. Why would I do that? No one does that. Especially not with flights to London. The expense alone is prohibitive.”

Had Bishop or any of the others looked into the bank accounts? Malloy claimed that he didn't know until just now, so assuming that was true, he hadn't. Bishop was off the grid.

“Why would anyone else book flights in your name?”

“I have no idea,” Malloy answered. “I'd say maybe someone was doing it for revenge, maybe, if... Damn it, I have to ask. I know you might not tell me, but how is she? Is she all right?”

“You really want to know?”

“I didn't leave because I don't care,” Malloy bit out. “I did it because I couldn't live with her shutting me out anymore. I hoped that it wouldn't have to go that far.”

“You quit the NSA.”

“I didn't think I had much choice. Even if I didn't take the position in London, my work at the NSA was going to keep coming between us. That had to change.”

Gibbs shook his head. That almost deserved a smack in the head. “You could have stayed for that instead of going halfway across the world.”

“It wasn't enough to stay if she didn't want me to,” Malloy said. “Is she all right? She won't take my calls. You're the only one that has.”

“Not sure how they're blocking you since you turned in your phone to the NSA.”

“I think it's rather obvious when the calls are coming from England, Gibbs,” Malloy said. “I can't say that I blame them. I must seem like... the biggest jerk on the planet. I am not asking you to forgive me or to tell her anything from me, but please—how is she?”

“You sure you want to ask that? Because you may not like what you hear.”

Malloy was silent for a few minutes. “I know I hurt her. I'm not stupid enough to think it wouldn't. Even thinking she doesn't want me there, I knew it wouldn't be easy. I don't know that it makes any difference—there's not much I can say—I won't even bother. I just needed to know that... That my faith in the rest of you wasn't misplaced. That you're there for her.”

“She took leave.”

Gibbs could see him nodding on the other end of the line. He leaned back in his chair, eying the empty desk again. “Bishop isn't the only reason you called.”

“No.”

“Spit it out, Malloy.”

“I had a strange visit at the firm today,” Malloy began. “It... Two men, introduced themselves as NCIS agents, but they never mentioned what exactly they were investigating. They did say that they hoped that I would be an ally since my wife was an agent.”

Gibbs frowned. “That doesn't sound right.”

“I didn't think so, either,” Malloy said. “I haven't been here long enough to have established any sort of connections. I can't imagine what value I'd have as any kind of ally, and when I was working at the NSA and my wife was working for you, I was _never_ approached as an ally. Ellie actually went to other people before she went to me, almost every single time. And I no longer work for the NSA. I admit, it's not much, but it didn't feel right. Then again, what am I saying? I'm an ocean away from everyone and everything I've ever known—including my other half. Nothing feels right.”

Gibbs snorted. “You make it back here, and I'm making sure you get a good smack on the back of your head.”

“Oh, it will match the ones on the front from pounding my head against this desk.”

And that would be why Gibbs still liked the man. “It may be nothing, but if these two agents show up again, I want to know about it.”

“I could just call the office here—”

Gibbs shook his head. “No. If there is something hinky going on, we don't want to tip them off yet. We wait, let them think they've got you fooled, see what plays out.”

“Okay.”

“You sure that's all?”

Malloy let out a breath. “Not that I can think of. I'm still hoping this is nothing.”

Gibbs' gut said otherwise, but it had been saying something was off since Malloy left. He wasn't sure what any of it meant. “Check your finances. Verify that you weren't charged for the alternate tickets.”

“You don't think that's related, do you? Why would anyone bother?”

“How did the NSA take you giving notice?”

“To be honest? Not well.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is like... the fic that ate my brain, I swear. The worst part is that it's trying to war with other ideas for this whole Jake/Ellie obsession I seem to have, and I keep getting ideas I want to work on that kind of have basis here and yet don't.

* * *

“Mr. Malloy?”

Jake looked up from his stack of briefs, forcing a smile. He was still drowning in paperwork and feeling completely out of his depth, which he supposed he deserved. Any sort of punishment felt necessary after leaving Ellie behind. He'd actually hoped she'd try and stop him, that she'd catch him in the elevator or the parking lot, even the terminal gate, but she never came. He supposed it was stupid of him to hope. He'd been the one to say he was going, and that probably mean that she thought it was what he wanted and she was letting him go.

Their wires were crossed up good, and he didn't know how to fix them. Now she was avoiding him for an entirely different reason.

He force a smile for his guests. “That's me, gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

“I'm Agent Carson. This is Agent Knox. We're with NCIS.”

Jake swallowed, sitting back in his chair. “This... isn't about Ellie, is it?”

Gibbs would have called, right? He would have hunted Jake down if something had gone wrong with Ellie, especially if it was caused somehow by Jake's departure. He had to believe that, though it might explain more of why no one would take his calls.

“Oh, no,” Carson said with a smile, inviting himself to one of the chairs across from Jake. “We just thought we'd come and introduce ourselves.”

Jake frowned, moving his papers from one stack to another. “You know, I'm actually not aware of my firm having had any dealings with your agency. We're not involved in criminal law here, so I'm not sure why you'd come to see me.”

Carson gave him a big smile, and Jake wondered if it was his time with Gibbs or Ellie that made him think the other man wasn't being sincere. Something about this whole situation felt off, and he would like to get out of this office. It no longer felt safe.

“It's more of an introduction, as we said,” Knox took over, fiddling with his tie. Jake wondered if the man had ever worn one before—he seemed very uncomfortable with it. His first few days in suit and tie had been unpleasant, but now they were all too natural to him, making him feel strange without them, actually. “Of course, any help you can pass our way is of course appreciated.”

“Naturally, I would be happy to give you any assistance I can,” Jake told them with a forced smile. “I'm still not sure how you think I can, but I am certainly willing to try.”

“You were NSA, weren't you?”

“Yes,” Jake said, since he could hardly deny it, “but I am no longer with the agency, and I no longer have clearance, so I'm afraid I won't be of any use there.”

“Not to worry. We're just here as a courtesy,” Carson said, giving Jake that too fake smile again. “After all, we have an obligation to look out for our citizens and the family of our agents.”

Jake smiled then, a little less forced this time. “Well, that's somewhat flattering, but I hardly think I deserve the attention. I'm just a lawyer, and I haven't really even started in on much here.”

He almost added that he and Ellie were having some difficulties at the moment but decided against it. He didn't need to air their dirty laundry, and he really didn't feel right about these two. He wouldn't have thought he'd say that about anyone, but if he played DiNozzo's people watching game, he wasn't sure he'd like what his thoughts would be about either man.

He was calling Gibbs as soon as they left. Maybe he wouldn't answer again, but Jake had to try. He didn't know anyone else he trusted.

“Any help you can give is still appreciated,” Knox said, pulling on the tie again.

“We've taken enough of your time, though, and we have other places we should be,” Carson said. “We just wanted to make sure you were aware that we're available and to introduce ourselves should we need to call on you for help.”

“Of course,” Jake said, rising as they did and watching them leave the room. Sitting back down, he pretended to go back to work, noting the time and trying to figure out how long was best to wait before making the call to Gibbs.

He decided on an hour and settled in to finish his paperwork.

* * *

Curled up in her childhood bed, Ellie held onto her favorite ratty stuffed animal and closed her eyes. The last time she'd been here, she'd been with Jake, and everything she looked at reminded her of him. She didn't have to see one of their many photographs. The bowl on the table by the door that Jake had knocked over the first time they came, bumping it with his suitcase and apologizing for days, the football jersey her brothers had gotten him that was about four sizes too big, and the stain on the carpet where she'd spilled wine while laughing at some stupid joke he'd told—all of that had her remembering too much and worrying even more.

How was she supposed to get her balance back when everything had her thinking about him, about everything that upset her? She couldn't sleep, and she didn't have much of an appetite. She wanted it to be simple, to be easy, but it wasn't. She and Jake had problems. She knew that. She knew that even if he wasn't in England, they would still have distance between them. The secrecy from the NSA was a huge part of it, but now that he wasn't working for them, would that be enough to change it? 

She didn't know. She never thought he'd do it, never thought he'd give up the NSA.

_“Did I ever tell you I actually applied to be an agent?” Ellie asked, leaning her head back against Jake's shoulder, happily settled in his arms. “I wanted to be in the field, to help people.”_

_“Don't you think you help people with what you do?” Jake asked, reaching over to take some of her hair and twist it in his fingers. “Think of the things you prevent, the threats you help avoid. So many lives get saved by the work you do.”_

_“And what you do. You make sure we have the legal means to do what we need to do,” she said, smiling at him. “It's more important than people realize.”_

_He grimaced. “It doesn't seem like it most days. All I do is create the red tape, not cut through it. I don't help anyone.”_

_“You know that's not true,” she countered, reaching up to lace her fingers in his. “I couldn't do my job if you didn't do yours. Or are you really unhappy doing it?”_

_“Oh, no,” he said. “No, I'm not. I... I did actually become a lawyer to make a difference. I wanted to help people. You know what I had my sights set on doing when I was younger? You'll laugh.”_

_“No. I don't think I will,” she said. “This isn't something I could tease you about, especially when you didn't laugh about me being an agent.”_

_“Why would I? You'd be good at it. I'm glad you aren't one—I'd go out of my mind with worry—but you could do it,” he said, giving her a kiss. Drawing back, he took a deep breath. “I wanted to work for the UN, of all things. Humans rights laws.”_

_“That,” she said, putting a hand on his chest, “is because you have a very good heart, Jake Malloy.”_

_“A heart that belongs to you,” he told her, eyes intense behind his glasses. “Ellie...”_

_“Yes.”_

_He stared at her. “I didn't even finish the question. How do you know you want to say yes?”_

_“Because it's you,” she answered, kissing him. “The answer is always going to be yes.”_

Ellie pulled the plush toy closer, closing her eyes and trying to stop the tears. She had loved Jake from the moment they met over a rare encryption form, and she hadn't ever stopped, even after they stopped being able to communicate. She'd changed, she knew that, but the part of her that loved him wasn't gone.

So was he. He was in another country, living another life, and she still didn't understand how it had happened. If he really loved her, would he have left? Or was leaving really an act of love?

She didn't know. She just knew it hurt.

* * *

“So, Abby, what's the word?” Tony asked, coming around his desk to stand next to her at McGee's. She was in pigtails and kinky boots again, and he had to admit, he didn't think there was anyone that could make that work as well as she did.

She looked around for Gibbs and shrugged when she didn't see him. “Just got a few things back on our dead sailor.”

“So you came all the way up here?” McGee asked, sounding suspicious. “I actually thought maybe you'd heard from Bishop.”

Abby eyed him and then Tony, and he shrugged. He'd figured the same thing. Besides Gibbs, the one most likely to hear from Bishop was Abby. After all, she'd told McGee that she hung out with Bishop and Jake plenty when they arranged that awkward dinner that turned Malloy into Gibbs' BFF. “I have. She hasn't talked to either of you?”

“Not a peep,” Tony said, “though I have noticed a few calls from a number I didn't recognize.”

“Same here,” McGee said. “I already backtraced it, and it does seem to have come from a law firm in England. There's a second number, too, but that line—”

“Is a private cell phone,” Abby finished. “Which was bought in the US, but is pinging off of towers in the UK.”

“So Malloy,” Tony summed up for them. “Anyone talked to him?”

“After the stunt he pulled when he left? I didn't see the point,” McGee said, shaking his head. “I don't even know why he's calling if he wanted to get away so much.”

“Even a stupid man can have regrets, Magoo.”

“You would know, Tony.”

“Hey,” Tony objected, reaching over to smack McGee on the back of the head. That was uncalled for. It was Malloy they all thought was being an idiot. Who screwed over Bishop like that? It was like kicking a puppy, a very strange and unique puppy. “You better watch yourself. I can and will hurt you.”

McGee rolled his eyes. He turned back to Abby. “So, tell us.”

“About the sailor or about Bishop?”

“Both,” Tony answered at the same time as McGee. “But Bishop first. That way when Gibbs shows up, we look like we're working. How is she? She over Jake the snake yet?”

“Uh, no, and I'm not sure she'll be over him any time soon,” Abby said. “They have years together, and that just doesn't disappear overnight. That's not how it works.”

“She's taking it hard, then,” McGee said, summing things up for everyone. Not that it was much of a surprise.

“She said everything reminded her of Jake and she doesn't understand how this happened,” Abby admitted with a grimace. “I kind of think we should pull him back and make him explain. Only I don't know if that would help or make it worse. I mean, what if it _did_ make it worse?”

“Well,” McGee began. “I don't know that—So, about our dead sailor. Abby, you said you had something for us?”

Tony looked over to see Gibbs coming toward them from the elevator. He forced a smile, but Gibbs wasn't paying any attention to them.

“You sure about that, Malloy?” Gibbs asked into the phone. “You said it yourself—they weren't happy when you gave notice.”

Malloy? Tony looked over at McGee, who looked at Abby and back to Tony. So, Gibbs was talking to his BFF again. Did that mean everything was forgiven, then? Gibbs was just okay with what Jake had done? How did that even happen? Gibbs should be pissed.

“Not necessarily,” Gibbs said. “It's not like it's an isolated incident.”

“Boss?”

Gibbs held up a finger, nodding to whatever was being said on the other end of the line. “Still makes the most sense that it was you.”

Tony exchanged another look with McGee, who shrugged. Abby frowned. None of them was stupid enough to interrupt Gibbs, though. He sat down at his desk.

“Not a very good gamble.”

Damn it, now Tony really wanted to know what was being said on the other end of the call. Especially since Gibbs was talking to Bishop's estranged husband. That just made it all the more frustrating not to know what was being said.

“Might have.” Gibbs hung up, shaking his head. “Should have stuck to rule thirteen.”

“Not much you can do when Bishop was the one who involved him. He was her husband, after all,” Tony said. Gibbs gave him a look, and Tony shrugged. “Kind of surprised you're still talking to him. Or are you somehow still BFFs after what he did to Bishop?”

Gibbs looked at Abby. “You have something on our dead seaman?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Well?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “Gibbs.”

“She's got a point, Boss. You can't really expect us not to be curious about what you might have to say to Bishop's husband,” McGee said, and Tony nodded with him because he really wanted to know. He'd wanted to know before, but for Gibbs to still talk to him...

“What do you know that we don't?”

Gibbs grunted. “Dead seaman. Talk. Now.”

* * *

Jake stopped by his car, trying to suppress a shudder. He didn't know what it was—the rain brought a chill to the day that wouldn't ordinarily have been there, and he'd thought it suited his mood, since he hadn't been much other than miserable since leaving Ellie. He kept thinking he should never have done it, but they said the definition of insanity was doing the same thing and expecting a different result. Something had to change. This was it, he supposed.

Still, he didn't think that feeling of _wrong_ was coming just from his misgivings about leaving Ellie. He looked around again. He would have sworn that someone was watching him, but he couldn't see anyone.

Unsettled, he opened the car door and got behind the wheel, locking the door behind him before taking out his phone.

He pushed the button, waiting for the call to connect and trying to tell himself he wasn't being ridiculous, though he knew he was.

“Gibbs.”

“Do you ever wonder if paranoia is contagious? I never used to be this suspicious, not before Ellie started working with NCIS. Then I help her with one case at the airport, and now I find myself questioning things I never would have before,” Jake said, putting a hand to his head.

“Such as?”

“I think I'm being followed,” Jake admitted. He shook his head, looking down at his free hand. “It's actually not the first time I've felt like someone was watching me. Last time I assumed it was lack of sleep. It probably still is. I haven't adjusted to the days over here yet.”

“You sure about that, Malloy?” Gibbs asked. “You said it yourself—they weren't happy when you gave notice.”

Jake grimaced. “I expect them to monitor my communications for a while, and while I'm sure they put in for the court order as soon as I did give notice, I don't know that they'd send anyone in person to monitor me. I can't be that important.”

“Not necessarily. It's not like it was an isolated incident.”

“You think that visit from the NCIS agents is related? Or is this just because I said I thought someone was watching me more than once?” Jake took off his glasses, rubbing his forehead. He had another headache. He should just go back to his apartment, but he didn't want to drive like this. It was hard enough to remember to drive on the wrong side of the road without his head throbbing to distract him.

“You look into the tickets?”

“Yes, and I didn't get charged for any of them. I don't know how I was on more than one passenger manifest,” Jake answered. “Still, I don't see why the NSA would do that. There's no good reason to fake a flight for me, not for them or anyone else.”

“Still makes the most sense that it was you.”

“Gibbs, I swear it wasn't. Damn it, I wanted Ellie to find me and stop me from going. I wanted a sign that she wanted me to stay,” Jake said, wincing at his own words. He knew that it sounded pathetic. It was. “Do you really think I'd make it hard for her to find me? I wanted obvious. I wanted her to come. I screwed up because I didn't make sure she had the new number, but I wasn't expecting the NSA to demand they held onto the number as well as the secure phone. I expected to transfer it when I left them.”

“Not a very good gamble.”

“There is a reason I'm a lawyer,” Jake shot back, hearing Gibbs laugh on the other end of the line. He sighed. “Have you heard from Ellie?”

“Might have.”

“Fine,” Jake muttered. “Don't tell me anything. I don't—I'm sorry I bothered you.”

He hung up, putting his phone away. He leaned back against the headrest, closing his eyes.

* * *

“McGee.”

He lifted his head up, trying not to wince. He hadn't heard Gibbs come up to him. He'd thought they were all gone now that the case was over, the seaman's killer caught and locked away. If Tim hadn't needed to go back for his phone, he would have been done and out of here as well.

“Boss?”

“You said you found Malloy on two flights. Neither of which he took.”

“Uh... Yes,” Tim said. “I was able to get the flight manifests for all outgoing flights to London, and Jake's name was on two of them. We went to the closest airport, but when we got there, he wasn't there. So we called the other airport, but he wasn't there, either.”

“Malloy says he only booked one flight. At midnight.”

Tim stared at Gibbs. “Are you sure? Because he wasn't on a midnight flight.”

“Can you prove that?” Gibbs asked, and Tim nodded. He knew he could. It wouldn't even take that much digging. He sat down again, waking up his computer and starting to work. He pulled up the program and started a search.

“Let's see now...” Tim started reading it over with a frown. “Uh... That's weird.”

“What?”

Tim grimaced, pointing to the screen. “Right here. These are the flights we saw Jake's name on when we were trying to intercept him. He had this seat here, and this one on this flight, but now he's not on _either_ manifest.”

“And the midnight flight?”

Tim hit the keys, calling it up. “Yeah, he's on it. They even have him checked in. If we had access to the airport's security, we could probably find him on it and prove he got on the plane. Boss, I don't understand—why would he have had three tickets?”

“He didn't.”

Tim frowned. “Then... Why did we see his name on the earlier flights?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“Is that what he called you about?”

Gibbs didn't answer. He started walking away, taking out his phone as he did. Tim stared after him, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. He picked up his phone and called Abby's lab, not sure if she'd still be there. 

“Hey, it's me,” Tim told her. “Gibbs just showed me something... hinky. You want to help me dig a little deeper?”

“Always.”

* * *

Ellie set her clothes on the bed, eying her bag. She didn't know what she was doing. She'd come here to think, but she wasn't thinking. She hadn't reached any conclusions, hadn't made it past either depression or anger, and most of her family wasn't helping. The fact that Jake left automatically seemed to make him a bad guy, and she didn't think it was that simple. She knew it wasn't. They all wanted to say he'd been the only one to make a mistake, but she knew he wasn't. She'd been unable to talk to him about the case that was bothering her, and that led to him thinking that she didn't want him anymore.

She was confused and hurt by him going, but she wasn't going to say she wanted him gone.

_“I want to take the job at NCIS.”_

_Jake looked up from his book, frowning a little. “You already have the job at NCIS.”_

_“Not the joint-detail. That's done. Gibbs offered me a position there. A permanent one. As an agent,” Ellie said, swallowing. She waited. Was Jake going to tell her she was crazy? She was, wasn't she? She had a good job. She liked what she did as an analyst. She helped people. She looked at the big picture, and she saw potential threats. They were able to stop them before they started._

_“Well, that's... that's great, Ellie.”_

_“Do you actually mean that?”_

_Hurt, Jake put down his book. “Yes, I do. You deserve recognition for what you do, and you are good at it, from all accounts. I just... If I hesitate a little, it's because I worry about you. The idea of you as an agent, risking your life—it's that assignment in Afghanistan all over again, and you know how much I... That was hard for me. I can't deny that. And if you do take a job at NCIS, you'll lose your top secret clearance.”_

_“You are a worrywart,” she said, going over to sit next to him. She reached for his hand, wrapping her fingers around his. “I can't believe you thought of all of that just now.”_

_“It wasn't all just now,” he admitted. “It's actually been on my mind since Gibbs brought you in on that first case. When he offered you the joint detail, I... I was worried then.”_

_“You didn't say anything.”_

_Jake forced a smile. “I would never stand in the way of something you really want. I hope you know that.”_

_“I do,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. She had everything she'd ever wanted right here._

She took a deep breath and let it out. If Jake actually believed this was what she wanted, that she wanted to end things, he'd do it. He'd give that to her, that out. He knew her well enough to know she wouldn't do it on her own. She'd hold onto him with everything she could, even if she had been having her doubts about their ability to overcome their problems.

She wasn't going to say she was the only one at fault, and Jake was wrong about it—wrong to assume he knew what she wanted and wrong to leave without actually talking to her. Still, she couldn't put it all on him.

They'd made this mess together. Somehow they had to find a way to resolve it, even if it was making this move of his permanent.

She wasn't sure what to do about that, but she knew she had to get her own balance back, and to do that, she couldn't be here. She didn't want to face their empty apartment, but she knew that listening to her family was going to influence her, and she wanted to make up her own mind.

She _needed_ to make up her own mind. Even her family wasn't generally biased in her favor, she'd need somewhere where she could deal not only with her feelings about her marriage but about the case that had widened the rift between them.

She was going to do this. She was getting her life back.

* * *

A knock on Jake's door had him jerking in his seat. He grimaced, forcing a smile for the two men in his doorway. He hadn't meant to zone out the way he had, but after almost two weeks with almost no sleep and the never ending feeling that he was, actually, being watched any time he left his apartment or office, he was easily distracted.

He was sure it showed, and that could very easily become a problem for him. He found himself wanting to call Gibbs again, but that was foolish. He'd never been that close to Ellie's boss, nicknames aside, and the other man was an ocean away. He couldn't do anything—and shouldn't want to after Jake more or less left his wife.

He hated himself for that.

“Gentlemen,” Jake said, looking between the two agents. Carson was already all smiles, and Knox had skipped the tie this time. “What can I do for you?”

“We were hoping that we might pick your brain, actually,” Carson said, and Jake figured if he had managed to eat breakfast this morning, they'd all be regretting it about now. He didn't feel right about this at all. Carson smiled too much, and Knox didn't seem capable of it.

Jake knew that wasn't a reason to be suspicious, but he still couldn't find a way to take them at face value, either. Something was wrong here, and he didn't have the training Gibbs or Ellie did to know what it was, but he knew he had to be careful.

“I will help you if I can,” Jake told him, giving another fake smile. He gestured to the chairs, hoping he didn't seem suspicious himself. “Have a seat. I am neck deep in the middle of a brief on—I won't bore you with the details, but I have to say, transitioning to international law has not been easy.”

“Any regrets about switching?”

Jake shook his head, regretting _that_ as soon as he did. “I've always been fascinated by this aspect of the law. I just didn't have the kind of background I needed—no experience in a somewhat delicate field—but that has changed. So, what can I do for you?”

“You wouldn't happen to know anything about the Moving Finger, would you?”

Jake did, actually. A terrorist group that had stolen their name from the Rubyiat, they had started circulating themselves through Europe in the last few years, never claiming responsibility for anything, but gaining a following and growing in threat level as they did. Still, he couldn't tell them that. He couldn't tell them _anything._ Everything he knew about that group was classified. These agents should know this. That was what made it feel so wrong.

“I'm afraid even if I did know something, it would fall under the terms of my nondisclosure agreement with the NSA,” Jake told them. “I can't tell you anything, and even if I could, my information would be old. I'm out of the loop now.”

“Even old information is better than none,” Carson said, and Jake held in a grimace. “Are you sure you can't give us anything that might—”

“Violate my oath? No. If you'd spoken to my wife, she'd have told you—I didn't even give _her_ information. I'm sorry. I'd like to help, but I can't.”

Knox frowned. “That's a bunch of—”

“We understand,” Carson said. “I admit, I was hoping I could avoid the usual stalling through channels, but I'd hate to be responsible for you breaking that oath. Come on, Knox. Let's see what we can dig up the hard way.”

Jake watched them leave, sitting back in his chair, feeling uneasy. If that was a test, like it could have—maybe even should have been—then he should be fine. He'd passed. He'd said no.

Somehow, he wasn't relieved.

* * *

Gibbs set his coffee on his desk and took his seat, giving Bishop's empty desk a glance before looking over at McGee's. Two empty desks. That was only a good sign when the day was over and the case was wrapped up. It was too damned early for that.

DiNozzo was watching him from his desk, clearly wanting to ask something but not giving into that urge. Gibbs shook his head, not sure why this situation with Malloy kept having this effect on his team. One was missing, one was doing anything but work, and the other was hurting.

“So,” DiNozzo began, and Gibbs started to give him a look when his phone rang.

Gibbs yanked the headset up to his ear. “Gibbs.”

“I have to ask a favor. I know I don't deserve a favor, but that doesn't mean I can't ask—I have to ask,” Malloy began, and Gibbs frowned. He thought about the time difference, not willing to calculate it, but he didn't know if that was to blame for what he heard in the other man's voice or not.

“If you were worried about getting it, you wouldn't have called.”

“I suppose you have a point.”

Gibbs almost urged him on to his point, but he chose not to, still bothered by the sound of Malloy's voice. The strain was obvious in every word. “You sick?”

“I think I have a migraine, but that's not really important,” Malloy said. “That's not the favor I have to ask for. I would go to someone else if I thought I could, but I don't trust them, and they might not tell me anyway. Still... If I get you a picture, can you confirm that they're actually NCIS agents?”

“What makes you think they're not?”

“Assuming you're right and this whole sense of being watched is just the NSA's way of confirming that I wasn't going to sell secrets now that I no longer work for them, I kind of think they may have sent those two 'agents' as a test, to see if I'd break the rules and share intel. They asked for some about a low level terrorist group. Nothing major, but it still bothers me. I turned them down, but... I'd feel better if I knew they were actually NCIS or even NSA.”

Gibbs thought about the strange business with the multiple tickets that no longer existed. “Send the picture. Now.”

“I already passed it to Abby. If she didn't delete it—”

“She has ways of getting it back even if she did,” Gibbs said. “I'll let you know what we find.”

The elevator dinged, and Gibbs looked over to see Abby rushing towards him. “Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs—there is some majorly hinky stuff going on here. I know you know part of it, but I got this photo and I ran it against personnel files—I know you might not think I should because I'm sure the photo came from Jake, but he asked me to see if they were NCIS, and somehow that didn't seem wrong, even if it maybe should because of what he did to Ellie and—”

“What did you find?”

“Gibbs, those two men are not and never have been employed by NCIS.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team looks into the impostors and other angles while Jake deals with things on his end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to wonder why I got so obsessed with a minor character/unpopular pairing. I barely even watch the show (I think my writing makes that obvious) and I don't know that I have a handle on any of the characters, even the ones I used to know fairly well.
> 
> Still, I keep wanting to write pieces that make it so Jake and Ellie find their way back to each other or before they lost it and are cute and yet I look at the episodes and I think maybe Ellie wanted out all along but I still want to do a piece where the internal affairs investigation was real or where they meet again later or something.
> 
> I am insane, obviously. And I can't seem to properly do plots to save my life. I threw out half of what I wrote for this chapter and redid it, and it's still not where it should be.
> 
> Also, the part from the Rubyiat is misquoted on purpose.

* * *

“Wait,” Jake said, taking off his glasses and pinching his nose, trying to will away the pain in his head. He knew it wouldn't work—the only thing that ever seemed to work on these damned things was bed rest in a cold, dark room. “Did Abby just say that they're not NCIS? Are we sure about that?”

“You were the one that raised the question.”

“Because they were acting weird and I don't see how I have any strategic interest to NCIS and Ellie told me after Parsa died that I needed to be more aware of my surroundings and I've been working on it. I almost regret it because the paranoia is contagious and horrifying, and while I'm not sure I would have slept without Ellie anyway, I know it's keeping me up at night,” Jake said, and then he sat back in his chair, rubbing his forehead. “I have no idea what I just said.”

“That typical of your migraines?”

“You'd have to ask Ellie. I generally don't remember them,” Jake admitted. After sleeping them off, the best he had was the haze of a lot of pain, nothing more specific. “Thank you for looking into the agents for me. I suppose I need to see if I can get someone at the NSA to tell me if they were assigned to watch me.”

“You have anyone that will answer that?”

“I... I'm not sure,” Jake admitted. Any of the coworkers he might have considered friends were ones he'd shared with Ellie, and none of them were any happier with him leaving her behind than her family at NCIS was. He knew of one woman who had been happy about it, but he wasn't about to ask her for help. She'd take it as a sign he was interested in her, and that was not true.

“Malloy—”

“I have to go, Gibbs,” Jake said, hanging up and rushing over to the trash, barely making it there in time. He finished, pushing the can away from him and leaning against the wall. It was going to be a long day, considering that he didn't have anyone to drive him back to his room.

He should never have left. If he was back home, he would be less stressed, he wouldn't have triggered the damned thing, and he might even have Ellie to take care of him. Instead he was alone, in a foreign country, and being watched by the NSA.

As life choices went, he had made a poor one.

* * *

“Well, if it isn't the reclusive Bishop,” Tony said as he stepped into the elevator. She gave him a slight smile, seeming distracted, not that he blamed her. He hadn't expected to see her for a while, though her coming back now had to be a good thing, right? She'd battled it out, figured out her game plan, and she was here to put it in action. Tony had to wonder what it would be. He wanted to ask, but that might be a bad idea, setting her off so soon. “Long time no see. You never call. You never write...”

She grimaced. “I... I know you were worried—”

“Oh, no, I was not worried. I am not the worrying type. I am one hundred percent cool. Calm, collected. Almost sanguine.”

“You're dying to ask me if I decided on following Jake to London or taking him back,” Bishop said. She shook her head. “Truthfully, I don't know. I'm still trying to figure out where I stand. But I want to do that where I feel... stable.”

“So you came here?”

She opened her mouth and then closed it and then opened it again. “I didn't want my family influencing my decision. None of you tried to do that. I mean, you offered to go get him, and you would have kept him where we could have talked, and I appreciate that. If it had worked, if he was still here... But he's not, and that's all my brother can see. Jake left me, so he's the enemy. Only it's not that simple.”

“I know,” Tony said. He was not the one people asked for relationship advice, but he knew that it wasn't all black and white. If he thought back to things with Jeanne—no, he wouldn't, but he could understand the complexity of things. And she didn't even know that Gibbs was apparently talking to her husband—ex—almost ex?—either.

“So I just want to get back to work and start putting things in perspective again,” Bishop said as the elevator reached their floor. She stepped out and started toward her desk. Tony followed after her, and they both reached the cubicle in time to hear Gibbs muttering about picking up. Abby fretted nearby, bouncing from one boot to another.

“What have we got?” Tony asked, but of course Abby's attention went straight for Bishop.

“Ellie! You're back,” she cried, rushing over to hug Bishop. “Oh, it is so good to see you. I'm glad you're all right. Well, not _all_ right, but mostly. I know you're still not—it's just good to see you.”

Tony turned back to Gibbs, not wanting to get in the middle of the reunion. “We have a case?”

“Potentially,” Gibbs said. He eyed Bishop for a long moment before turning to Abby. “Put the picture on screen.”

She nodded, leaving Bishop's side to pick up the controller. She hit a few buttons and then the screen was filled with a slightly blurry photo of two men sitting in an office. “Do we have names for our fake NCIS agents? I didn't get any, but maybe he told you—”

“No. No names,” Gibbs answered, looking at his phone again. He pushed a button and waited impatiently. “They familiar to either of you?”

Tony shook his head. “Never seen them before. Should we have?”

Gibbs seemed to be waiting, and when Bishop noticed, she shook her head. “I've never seen them, either. The one on the right seems... wrong. Just by the way he's sitting.”

“Dude hates the suit,” Tony said. “Look at him. It's all over him. It's not even a good off the rack—this one is cheaper than that—and he's got it buttoned wrong. It's like he just put it on before he walked in there.”

“Or had a long day and didn't notice,” Abby said. Then she shrugged. “You're probably right, though. Something is very hinky about these two.”

“What's the connection? Why are we interested in them?”

“They're impersonating NCIS agents and trying to get classified intel.”

Bishop grimaced. Tony shook his head. “They should have gone with a more convincing act. Those two wouldn't fool anyone.”

Gibbs nodded. He turned to Bishop. “You still have contacts in the NSA?”

“A few. Not as many as I had before. I think Jake and I both figured out that job friendships aren't all they're cracked up to be,” Ellie said. She winced. “I... I just mean that I found I didn't have much in common with most of my friends after I left the NSA.”

“What about annoying girl? Martinez?”

Bishop smiled. “We still talk. I can see if she knows anything about them.”

“Do it.”

She nodded, moving over to her desk, sitting down at it. Gibbs looked at his phone and started walking away. Tony followed after him, all the way into the elevator that he'd just gotten off. He let the doors close and sure enough, Gibbs pulled the emergency stop.

“You got something to say to me?”

“You think it's wise having Bishop investigate a case that involves her husband without telling her? Because that _is_ what you're doing, isn't it?”

“If she can confirm that these 'NCIS' agents were from the NSA, that's where it ends.”

“You taking his side in this?”

“The man's an idiot for walking away when he should have fought, but that doesn't make him the enemy. He said he was being watched, and I want to know how that connects to men impersonating members of _our_ agency.”

“You're not planning on arranging a little side of matchmaking, are you?”

“No. Just calling the London office and getting a real set of agents to talk to him.”

* * *

“You need to answer your phone,” Gibbs grumbled when his call finally connected. He'd lost count of the times he'd hit the redial since Malloy hung up the night before. He didn't like having his cases shape up when he was halfway around the world. Those fake NCIS agents could have gone after Malloy, and the other man could have been dead for all they knew. That shouldn't matter, but despite the circumstances, Bishop's husband just might fall under the umbrella of his people. Malloy was hers, so he was theirs, or at least that was how Gibbs had seen it in the beginning.

And they talked. Gibbs didn't talk to many people, but he'd found a use for Malloy, and it wasn't just for racquetball or classified intel.

“It was low on the list of priorities,” Malloy whispered, still sounding strained. “Spent the night over a trashcan, so the phone... not something I even thought about.”

Gibbs almost said something about too much detail, but Malloy let the subject drop, going silent on the other end. That answered that question. The man was still under the effects of the migraine. “Should I ask if you remember anything from yesterday?”

“I don't,” Malloy answered a little too fast for Gibbs' liking. “At least, not after Abby said they weren't NCIS agents. Did something else happen?”

“On our end, yes. Apparently not on yours.” Gibbs waited, getting more silence. He didn't know that Malloy would get anything from this conversation, either. Still, at least he was aware enough to pick up the phone this time. “I've called the local NCIS office, spoke over video with agents I know personally. They're going to come speak to you.”

Malloy groaned. “Gibbs, I know I asked for a favor, but... This isn't necessary. Or a good idea. At all. I am—excuse me.”

Gibbs held the phone away from his ear as the other man retched. He grimaced. That didn't sound like an ordinary migraine to him. He'd have to ask Ducky about the symptoms, see if he could give a better diagnosis. Or he could make this easier on himself, find something more like the source. Bishop would have answers. She would want to know what was going on with her husband.

“Sounds like you need the help.”

“Not the humiliation,” Malloy muttered. “Am hanging up again.”

Gibbs snorted, hanging up just in time to see McGee approaching him. He hadn't seen the other man since he told him to check the passenger manifest. That was too damned long. “Where have you been? Dead marine not mean anything to you?”

McGee grimaced. “I'm sorry, Boss. I've been trying to track down the intrusion on my computer.”

“Intrusion?”

“Abby and I started looking for the source of the altered manifests, and it actually took me longer to realize than I want to admit that—”

“They altered the list on your device. Not on the manifest itself.”

“Yeah,” McGee answered. “I'm still trying to track down the source of it. They managed to cover their tracks, and I haven't found everything they did yet. It might take me weeks to get my computer sorted out. I haven't seen malware this sophisticated before. Like, ever.”

Gibbs frowned. “Bishop back from the NSA yet?”

“I think so. Why? Do you actually think _they_ did this?” McGee frowned. “How does that work? I mean, he was just a lawyer, wasn't he? So why go to all the trouble of confusing the lists and impersonating NCIS agents—”

“No idea,” Gibbs admitted. “The one who has the answers is across the ocean, and we have a dead marine to deal with. Malloy can wait. I want this killer found.”

“Aye, aye, boss.”

* * *

“Something wrong, Bishop?”

Ellie looked up from her files. She was still trying to connect their dead marine to his killer, and she was having trouble seeing it. She didn't want to admit it, since she knew that everyone—even her, a little—would assume the reason she was struggling was because of her personal life. Her marriage shouldn't overshadow everything, but somehow it seemed to.

She shook it off, reaching for her potato chips and eating one. “I'm just looking for the missing link. Corporal Myers was well-liked, friends with everyone he worked with. He wasn't working a classified assignment. I am still not seeing any reason why he was killed.”

“Could be random,” Tony said, sitting down at his own desk.

Ellie glared at him. “You know, if you want to say something about my ability to do my job, just say it. And you're wrong. Jake may have gone to England, but that does not make me incapable of doing my job. I can do this.”

“Easy, cool your jets. I didn't say you weren't,” Tony said. “Random crimes do happen. People get in the wrong place at the wrong time—”

“Except Myers wasn't,” Bishop said. “This was premeditated. The whole thing shows careful planning and execution. Myers was targeted.”

Tony nodded. “Exactly. We all know that.”

“And I should be able to find that, but I am missing something.” Ellie took two chips into her hand and bit into them. The crumbs scattered across her papers, and she tapped her finger on the top page. “Did McGee find anything in his computer?”

“Not sure. Haven't seen McGeek Squad in a while. I think I heard him pouting about his computer. Oh, hey—what happened with NSA? Your friend recognize either of our impostors?”

Ellie shook her head, not that inclined to replay her conversation with Martinez. Tony was actually less annoying about the apparent break up of her marriage than her friend was. That had not been a pleasant conversation. “Martinez wasn't going to compromise any on-going operations, and she of course _officially_ denied telling me anything above my current clearance level, but she did say that they weren't NSA.”

“But she said something that is bothering you.”

Ellie bit her lip. “She asked if I wanted to use NSA surveillance to know who Jake left me for.”

“And this woman is your friend?”

“Well, I think she said it as a joke that she didn't think all the way through,” Ellie said. “And she _is_ a good friend who has come through for me before when I needed her. I just... I wasn't prepared for it. I hadn't even told her Jake left.”

“She's NSA. She had to know. Their lawyer jumps ship, it's gonna rock their boat. A lot.”

Ellie nodded, but her mind wasn't on her husband anymore. She started flipping through her papers, needing to find the one on Myers' wife. “I think I may have the connection we need.”

“I didn't think you were still looking. Weren't we on—”

“Forget about Jake and the NSA for a minute, Tony. We have a man everyone likes who ends up dead, which makes us ask—who didn't like him? And I remembered seeing something on this form here—”

“Is that the marriage license? Does that say—”

“That his wife was married before? Yes. According to her, it was a mistake made right out of high school that they both regretted and they parted as friends, but what if that is just her side of the story?”

“You think the ex is still carrying a torch for her? Enough to kill Myers to get her back?”

“It's possible.”

“Go bring him in,” Gibbs ordered, coming back into the bull pen. She looked up, surprised to see him as usual. She didn't know that she would ever get used to that.

“We don't have any proof—”

“Trust your gut,” Gibbs said, and she smiled at him as she got up, gathering her gear. If she was right about this, then maybe she could. Maybe she'd be able to resolve some of her own issues after this was all over.

* * *

“Mr. Malloy?”

Jake grimaced. He had been hoping for a quick shower and a long nap, needing to clean up after a disastrous night on his office floor and one of his worst migraines in years. He just wanted his bed—and clothes that didn't smell. Turning around from his door, he faced his guests. Two of them again, and he wouldn't call them a couple—though DiNozzo would probably have better instincts there. Maybe there was something between them despite the difference in age and economic status. The younger man seemed to have more money, though that was a stereotype—and what was Jake even doing thinking like this?

“I'm Malloy. Can I help you?”

“I'm Leslie Adams,” the woman began before gesturing to her companion. “This is Bradley Waters. We're with NCIS.”

“It's actually not the first time I've heard that this week, and I'm having a little trouble believing it,” Jake said, tempted to open the door and hide himself inside it. “I think you should leave.”

“Gibbs said, and I'll quote because I don't want to get this wrong—don't make him regret making an exception to rule thirteen for you.”

Jake almost smiled. He'd been concerned when he heard _that_ rule from Ellie. He figured there was no good way he was making a decent impression on her new boss just because of the work he did, classified or not. “I'm going to have to quote rule three back. You'll have to excuse me.”

“Go ahead and call Gibbs,” Adams told him. “We'll wait while you double check.”

Jake nodded, opening his door and stepping inside. He closed it behind him, shedding his suit jacket. He dug the phone out of his pocket before letting it drop to the floor—he never did that at home, but his need for order had failed him here. He didn't have Ellie to make chaos for him, so he had to make it himself. He set the phone on the table, pushing the button to call as he started unbuttoning his shirt and kicking off his shoes.

“Gibbs.”

“I thought you told me at our first racquetball game that you regretted making an exception to rule thirteen.”

“I did,” Gibbs said, sounding almost amused. “You play dirty.”

Jake snorted. He didn't, but he was much younger than Gibbs and it was his main source of exercise. “Did you really send someone named Adams after me?”

“Depends. Is she a tall blond in a power suit?”

“Try a short brunette with a chip on her shoulder and I hope that polo shirt was bought on sale because that color is going to give me nightmares even if I don't start puking again.”

“Sounds about right. Adams is color blind,” Gibbs said. “You can send a picture if you want, but she's legit. I told you I was sending her your way.”

“I know. I think. This morning is still a bit fuzzy,” Jake admitted. “I haven't had one that bad in years. Not since... Well, that's not really worth discussing. I take it you want me to tell the real NCIS agents everything I know.”

“It would be wise. I can't do much from here.”

Jake nodded. That made sense, much as he didn't like it. “Fine. I will talk to them, but I need one thing from you—”

“She's back. She's working. A little distracted, but on the whole, good.”

“I should be relieved,” Jake said. He shook his head. Somehow he wasn't. Maybe he'd wanted to matter more to Ellie, but then she wouldn't be the woman he loved if she fell apart so easily. “Never mind. I need to finish changing and get this over with. Um... Thank you.”

“Thank me by making sure those impostors get caught.”

Gibbs ended the call, and Jake went to his suitcase, taking out a t-shirt and pulling it over his head. He switched out his suit pants for a pair of jeans and decided that he didn't care about shoes. This was not at all like him, since he was almost always in a clean, pressed suit, but he didn't care what he looked like right now.

He went back to the door, opening it. “You waited.”

“And you called Gibbs,” Adams said. “You ready to talk?”

Jake wasn't, but he forced a smile and nodded, wanting to get this over and done already.

* * *

“And that is one more killer behind bars,” Tony said, coming up to McGee's desk. Tim grimaced, not in the mood for one of Tony's jokes or pranks. He had a long night of diagnostics ahead of him, and he needed to get started on it. “What's with you? You've been McPouty Face all day.”

“My computer was hacked.”

“No way. Someone hacked the unhackable?”

Tim sighed. “It's not unhackable. It's just very difficult to get past my encryption, but someone did. That's how they spoofed the passenger manifests. They made me believe Jake's name was on two different manifests when it wasn't on either of them.”

“What?”

“The flights we tracked down? Jake never registered for either of them. He took a flight out at midnight. I didn't know how someone could hack the manifests with that good of timing, and then Abby and I realized the obvious—they weren't hacked. I was. I'm still sorting it out.”

“Ouch,” Tony said. He looked over at Bishop's desk. “You think we should tell her? Because Gibbs is playing it all cagey like he doesn't plan to, but that can't be good. She'll get upset if she thinks we're babying her or lying to her.”

“Do we think she actually wants to know about Jake? Because if Gibbs thinks she doesn't, maybe we should go with his gut.”

“It is strange,” Tim began. “The hack, the fake NCIS agents... Why go to all that trouble?”

“No idea,” Tony said. Then he frowned. “Wait, what if we've _all_ been played? What if the whole lawyer thing is just a cover? What if Malloy really is a spy? Think about it—he pretends he's a lawyer with no field experience, but underneath that, he's really Bond with a side dose of the Saint for an extra bit of Moore. Now if only he had an accent—oh, but he _does._ He just hides it very well.”

“Tony, you're being ridiculous.”

The other man nodded. “Yeah, but what if I'm right? Wouldn't that be awesome?”

“Not really, because then he would have lied to Bishop about a lot more than this job he took.”

“Hmm. I suppose you have a point about that.”

Tim shook his head, running a hand over his face. It was ridiculous. Tony was wrong. Jake was not a spy. Though... it could explain why someone very good at what they did had hacked his computer.

* * *

“And they just expected you to help them?” Adams asked, frowning. “Why would they believe that you would do that?”

“Aside from trying to trade on my wife's position with your agency, I have no idea,” Jake said, leaning his head back against his chair. He needed to finish this so he could get some rest. “Why are you looking at me like that? Gibbs did tell you that Ellie was a part of his team, didn't he?”

“You're here. She's not. The math there doesn't add up,” Waters said, and Jake bit back a groan.

“It doesn't matter if Ellie's here or not,” Jake said, not wanting to discuss that with anyone else. No one needed to know how wrong things were in their marriage and how badly he'd screwed it up. The only thing worse would have been if he did have an affair, but if he did—he would never forgive himself for that. He couldn't do it for this, and this was just a trip he hadn't discussed with her. Mostly. He didn't have a permanent residence and hadn't gotten citizenship or anything.

“It could.”

“Look, whatever they wanted seems to have been something to do with my past with the NSA,” Jake said, rubbing his hand over his face and stopping when he realized he'd lost his glasses. He couldn't remember what he'd done with them. 

“You were there as an attorney?”

Jake had a feeling none of them understood just what he did at the NSA. He couldn't clarify it, either. “I was. I had high level clearance, which they may have wanted to use, but I surrendered that when I left.”

Adams nodded, though she was a bit blurry and Jake was getting nauseous again. “Did they give you any indication of what they were after?”

“They asked me about the Moving Finger.”

Adams stiffened. Waters frowned. “What do you know about them?”

“Aside from their corruption of poetry?” Jake forced a smile. “Officially, that's it. They took their name from the _Rubyiat,_ or at least from one translation of it. I believe it goes something like this— _The moving finger writes; and, having writ moves on: nor all your piety nor wit will lure it back to cancel half a line, nor all your tears wash out a word of it._ Ellie would know. She's got a better memory than I do. I only know that because—well, because of a different terrorist, but that's not something I can discuss, either.”

“We need you to come with us.”

Jake frowned. “What? You're not actually thinking that I'm a suspect now, are you? As far as we knew the—Damn it, I can't even say that.”

“We still need you to come with us,” Adams said. “There's something you should see.”

Jake grimaced. “I'm going to need my glasses, then.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs and the team get another case, while Jake deals with NCIS overseas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The part at the end of this chapter was supposed to be at the end of the last one, but I couldn't make that happen. This part ended up longer than I expected, too.
> 
> And I am going to tweak the rating because they're not really dealing with G stuff anymore, and it's not going to get better for a while.

* * *

“What exactly am I looking at?” Jake asked, feeling a bit sick as he looked at the screen. He had seen the aftermaths of bombings before, and he knew he was looking at another. He wasn't an idiot. He could see the broken shell that used to be a building, the pile of rubble in front of it, and he'd seen enough of them to know a bit of how it had happened, too. He was no expert, but his previous job had exposed him to several pictures like this.

“You don't know?”

Jake looked over at Waters. That man annoyed him, but then he was still fighting a residual migraine. “I know what a bombed out building looks like. I want to say it was done by a bomb placed inside the building, but I don't actually know that anyone could tell that from a photograph.”

“Then why ask?”

“Because you have some purpose in showing this to me, and I'd like to know what it is,” Jake said. “A bombing is just a bombing without context.”

“You must have had a lot of friends at the NSA.”

“I'm a lawyer. I don't have a lot of friends, period,” Jake shot back, rubbing his head again. “Would you please tell me why I had to come into your office to see this? Because I am tired, I haven't slept decently in weeks, I still have a migraine, and I am starting to get nauseous again. If you don't have answers for me, I'm leaving.”

“This is the work of the Moving Finger.”

Jake frowned. That made no sense. They seemed to prefer to stay in the background, luring in members but not taking any overt action. Ellie had pegged them as a future threat, and he'd pushed for the surveillance on every known member, but the group, while spouting some dangerous rhetoric, had not been linked to any actual crimes, at least not as of when he left the NSA.

“What do you know?”

“Nothing,” Jake said. Adams and Waters both looked at him, but they had nothing on Gibbs. “Even if I did know something, I couldn't talk about it.”

“But you _do_ know something,” Adams pressed. “The name is familiar to you. Maybe a lot more than that.”

Jake shook his head. “Even if it is, I can't talk about it.”

She pulled up a photograph on the screen. “This man was seen entering the building before the explosion. He is a known member of the Moving Finger.”

Jake tried not to react to the photo. That wasn't just a member of Moving Finger. Most intelligence suggested he was the leader or very high up in its ranks. There was even a theory he and Ellie had discussed about him using the Moving Finger to recruit members for other organizations, keeping the shadow group from any direct links but still furthering their cause. It wasn't like him to show his face in public or to tie the group to anything.

“He could have been there for any number of reasons.”

“He put a bomb there.”

Jake almost laughed. “Where is your proof? This isn't even close to making a circumstantial case. All you can prove is that one man walked into a building. I can guarantee you that would never fly in court. You're wasting all of our time right now.”

“Figures you wouldn't help,” Waters muttered. “You really are a lawyer.”

Jake faced Adams. “If that is all you have, I would like to go home now.”

* * *

“What have we got?”

Ellie almost jumped out of her chair. She should not have been so easily startled, but then she was more easily distracted than usual. She hated that, hated that she still hadn't made a decision. She'd told herself that she was going to be able to think once she was back at work, but she wasn't making any progress. She was just going around in circles, and nothing had been resolved.

She forced herself to her feet. “We have Ensign Cameron Doyle. Stationed on board the _Vella Gulf._ She was supposed to report back from shore leave two days ago.”

“And?”

“And there were concerns raised by the ship's doctor,” Tony said, coming around his desk. “Seems our young ensign was having difficulty adjusting to naval life. The doctor thought she might end up harming herself.”

“Or she might just have left the navy,” McGee said. Tony gave him a look. “Well, it is the better outcome. The last thing we want is to find she _did_ commit suicide.”

Gibbs grunted. “What do we know about Doyle? Where might she have gone?”

“Doyle has no family,” Ellie said. “Her parents were killed in a car accident when she was a child. She was raised by her maternal grandmother, who died when she was a senior in high school. She switched from her original plan of going to college and joined the navy. She became a communications officer and was assigned to the _Vella Gulf_ three months ago.”

“It's not easy being on a boat,” Tony said, shuddering. “I hated every minute of it.”

“You served on a ship?”

“Agent afloat,” Tony answered, still grimacing. “Worst months of my life. Almost went insane.”

“They were all too ready to get rid of him,” McGee confirmed. He smiled, but then Gibbs looked at him. “Right. So... I tried to do a trace on her phone, but she left it on the ship. No activity on her credit cards. I'm still trying to get her on the local cameras to track her movements, but so far no luck. It's like she disappeared the moment she got off the ship.”

“Unless she never got off the ship,” Gibbs said, and Ellie saw the looks going around between the others. Tony reached for his bag, on the move, and McGee followed suit.

“Did you want—”

“Stay here. Find out more about our missing ensign.”

Ellie nodded. She could do that. She picked up her folders and a bag of Cheetos, sitting down and putting on her headphones. She opened her laptop and set to work, refusing to get distracted again.

* * *

“You really think she was killed on the ship, Boss?”

“Don't know.”

Tim grimaced. They could have called in the search, and the ship should already have done it. He didn't know if they would have—they could have assumed that since Ensign Doyle had left the ship, there was no need. He didn't know. It would have made it easier if they had, but then Gibbs probably would have made them search again anyway.

“Come on, Magoo, stop being so blind. Wake up and smell the conspiracy,” Tony said, and McGee frowned at him. “Does it really take three of us to supervise a ship search? Answer, no. We're here. Bishop isn't. He wants to talk to us about the case her husband is involved in that she doesn't know about.”

“Do we really want to keep this from her? It was one thing when we were just looking into the passenger manifest to see if he lied about it, but we have fake NCIS agents trying for classified intel and the possibility that he's being watched by the NSA.”

“Oh, he is so being watched by the NSA,” Tony said, and Tim looked at him. He didn't know that. “Think about it.”

“No one was watching Bishop when she joined us. We'd have noticed.”

“Didn't need someone to watch her when she was married to the NSA.”

Tim stared at him before looking at Gibbs for confirmation. Was he hearing this right? “You think Jake spied on her for them?”

“She did say that she talked hunting bad guys with him and that they never talked about his work. He knew everything about hers.”

Gibbs grunted. “We have a missing ensign who may or may not be suicidal. Focus.”

“Yes, Boss.”

* * *

“We do have more.”

Jake folded his arms over his chest, facing Adams and trying not to lose his temper. He did not want to be here, and his migraine was getting worse. That shirt of hers was not helping, and he didn't like Waters' attitude, either. Maybe these two were Gibbs' way of punishing him for the choice he made. It even seemed like help, making it that much worse.

“Fine, but I repeat—I am not able to tell you anything from my classified past. Don't bother asking.” Jake turned from her, keeping his eyes on the bland manila of the folder in front of him on the table. Anything else was likely to make the nausea become fact again.

“What do you know about this man?” Adams asked, pulling up a new picture onto the screen.

Jake frowned. “That's Charlie Banks. I went to law school with him. How does he connect to any of this?”

“He was in the building when it exploded.”

Jake leaned back against the desk. “Making the connection personal for me doesn't change what I can and can't tell you. I never told Ellie what I knew, and that was when it was putting both our lives at risk at times. It's tragic that Charlie died, but you have to realize that if we were good friends, I'd have already known he was dead. We weren't close.”

“Yet he recommended you for your current position.”

Jake blinked. “He did what? How could he? I haven't seen him in years. Last time we ran into each other was at a law conference. They were making some changes to clauses no one cares to know about, and we discussed them over drinks in the hotel bar, but mostly because we were both bored—and about the only two married men who'd come without their wives that didn't seem interested in finding a temporary replacement.”

“Loyalty. I'd admire that in a man if you weren't on the other side of the ocean from your wife,” Adams commented. Jake had a feeling she'd gone through a nasty divorce and probably disliked lawyers because of it. Great.

“I'm not saying I'm perfect or that if the situation was different, I might not have done something that feels unthinkable, but at the time, Ellie and I were very happy. She was texting me so much that we went over on our bill that month, too. It was almost like having her there.”

“I see.”

“I don't see how knowing Charlie makes a difference,” Jake said. “Even if he may have had some kind of influence on the firm's decision to offer the job to me. He wasn't part of the hiring process. I got this job on my own merit.”

“Sure.”

Jake fixed Waters with a hard look, wondering if he channeled Gibbs if it would be at all effective. “You haven't exactly impressed me in your professional capacity, either. I doubt you'd understand the complexities of my position now or in the past, and I won't bother explaining it. Now, do you have anything that actually pertains to me, or should I—”

“Well, there is the matter of a certain detective sergeant with the metro police—”

Jake's phone rang, cutting off what Adams was about to say. He answered it, not caring how rude it was or who was on the other end of the line. “Malloy.”

“Jake,” Abby said with a strange amount of warmth in her voice. “Have I got something for you. Now, you know those agents that you sent me a picture of?”

“I do, but I'm not entirely sure why you're—”

“Bert and I discussed it, and we think we might be able to forgive you if we can get your word that you are absolutely not involved with anyone else and cheating on Ellie and that you left because you were actually trying to save your marriage.”

He put a hand to his head again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to ask if it was the hippo she'd discussed that with or the ranger. “I'm not entirely sure that I could argue that point, but I will give you my word that there was no one else. It... It was about finally finding a job that made me feel like I was giving up the NSA for a good reason. Not that Ellie wasn't a good reason, but I'd probably have ended up resenting my decision if I'd taken some other job.”

“Okay,” she agreed, and Jake wondered if he'd passed the test. Abby was one person he would have liked to have on his side—but at the same time, he knew her friendship was important to Ellie so he wasn't going to push. “Gibbs told me to share the information I had with the agents in England, but I don't know them, and I'm not sure I trust them. I'm doing a test. I want to see if they give you the same information I give them.”

Jake grimaced. “I'm not exactly a fan of their information sharing policy.”

“Which is why _you_ are fortunate that you have me.”

* * *

Gibbs looked down at the body of Ensign Doyle, shaking his head. He didn't like this. Death tended to make him angry, more so when it was a waste or when it was murder, and this was definitely murder. Someone had hidden her body, and while that would never have worked for long, the _Vella Gulf_ was due to ship out again soon enough. Her killer might have been hoping to conceal her long enough to dump the body at sea, allowing everyone else to believe that she'd disappeared after going ashore.

“I want this bastard found.”

“Well, we have a narrower field of suspects considering that it had to be someone on the ship.”

“Narrow it down further,” Gibbs ordered. When he saw his agents frowning, he almost smacked them both. “The officer of the watch said she left the ship and never came back. Her body is right here. Someone is lying.”

“Right,” McGee and DiNozzo said at the same time, rushing out the door.

Gibbs shook his head at the two of them. He turned his attention back to the body. While it would be simpler if the officer of the watch was the killer, it didn't all add up. He had to get the body here, and someone could have seen him moving it or noticed him being gone from his post. A bribe was still a possibility, one that might even be more likely than the watch officer being the killer.

Gibbs' phone rang, and he flipped it open, answering it. “Gibbs.”

“Remember how I said that the guys in the picture were hinky?” Abby asked. “While I've been waiting for you to find me a crime scene, I did some digging. The one Jake called Carson, he had a watch that is rather unique. I was able to trace it back to the manufacturer. From there, I got a list of buyers, and that looked like it was going to be the end of it, since none of the faces matched. However, I noticed a few similar markers in one photo and—”

“Did you find him or not?”

“I did,” Abby said proudly. “I realized with those markers that I was probably looking at a relative, so I checked it against other family members, and I got him. He's a struggling actor. Not surprising that he didn't fool Jake. His only performances were panned by critics.”

“You have a name for me?”

“I do. Cyril Hines. And I managed to use that name to track down his friend in the bad suit. They're _both_ actors. They share an agent and they've worked together before,” Abby told him. “I'm sending the information to you now.”

Gibbs frowned. “You check their bank records?”

“Would I—”

“Someone hired them to impersonate NCIS agents. I want to know who.”

“I'm still looking. The deposit was made through a dummy corporation, and I'm still trying to find the real one behind a lot of false fronts,” Abby said. “At least we know who they are, even if we don't know what they're up to yet.”

“You did good, Abs. You give this to the agents in England?”

“No.”

Gibbs frowned. “Why not?”

“Because they were suspect. We don't know if they're real or not. How can I trust them with my information and the love of Ellie's life like that?” On the other end of the line, Abby was shaking her head. “I couldn't just throw Jake under the bus even if he did hurt Ellie by going.”

Gibbs grunted. Adams wasn't his first choice for this job, but he didn't think she was corrupt. Still, his gut didn't like the situation any more than Abby did. “Give Malloy the information first. He'll let us know if they alter it when they tell him.”

“Does this mean you really have forgiven him?”

“Goodbye, Abby.”

* * *

“I almost wish I was doing this over voice chat, but since I know you're with the agents, that's going to have to wait,” Abby said. “I'll send you pictures later, too. The important thing to know is that both of the men you met were actors. Bad ones, from the reviews I found. I think they might have been desperate for the role and willing to overlook the weird stuff that went with it.”

Jake rubbed his temple, closing his eyes to block out the colors spotting his vision. “That makes no sense.”

“Well, if it _was_ the NSA doing a check on you, they wouldn't necessarily want to approach with an agent you'd recognize or anyone that they might compromise by sending them your way,” Abby reminded him. “This is a relatively cheap but effective way of testing your loyalty.”

“Not really. At least, not in my opinion. All it did was make a bad week worse.” He was aware that he was being watched and that they were listening in, and he knew that he should just leave, no matter what the agents thought of him. He was going to be spending the next few hours over a toilet or a trashcan, and he'd rather do that in private.

“You do sound rather awful. I didn't calculate the time difference—what time is it over there?”

“That's not the problem. The migraine is.”

“Still?” Abby asked, sounding worried. “You had one yesterday, too. Unless—it's the same one? Oh, you poor thing. That's bad, isn't it?”

“I haven't had one this bad since Par—” Jake cut himself off, not wanting to think about Parsa or let the NCIS agents hear him mention the name. “It's almost up there with the one I got right before the wedding, actually.”

“They had to put you on an IV because you couldn't keep anything down and you were so sick Ellie thought you weren't going to make it to the wedding,” Abby said, and Jake grimaced at the memory. He hadn't wanted to tell that story, but Abby had gotten Ellie to talk about the wedding, and that incident always came up when people asked about their “big day.”

“Abby, you called for a reason—”

“Right, I did,” she said, and he could picture her hands moving as she spoke. “So the man you know as Carson is Cyril Hines. I have a really cool story about how I tracked him down, but I'll spare you it until you're feeling better. And his friend Knox goes by the name of Lester Barnes.”

“They had better aliases.”

Abby laughed. “That's what I thought, too. So, now that I've told you all of that, I'm going to give the information to the other agents, and if they do anything they shouldn't, you tell me, okay?”

Jake nodded, then regretted it. “I will. Will you—”

“Just hang in there, Jake. Ellie still loves you, and I have faith you'll work this out even if I have to drag you back here to make it happen.”

He smiled slightly as he hung up, turning back to face the agents.

* * *

“We pulled everything we could from the ship, and we sent it down to Abby for processing, and Gibbs has the watch officer in interrogation,” McGee reported, and Ellie nodded. She looked down at her papers again and frowned. “Something wrong?”

“I just... I guess I'm having trouble seeing it. The reason for her death. Something's missing.”

“Not really,” Tony said, dumping his bag at his desk. “It's a fairly typical story. Boy and girl serve on the same ship. Boy likes girl. Girl doesn't like boy. Boy kills her and hides her body down below hoping he can get away with it because of her depression.”

McGee nodded, but Ellie shook her head. “I'm not sure it fits. When I look at what I have on her, everything suggests that she was desperate for a sense of family.”

“You think she would have been desperate enough to take up the offer of the first man she came across just to have that?” McGee asked, frowning. “Not only is that a bit sad, it doesn't jive with what she did in joining the navy.”

“I think she did join the navy for a sense of purpose and family,” Ellie agreed. She reached into her desk, grimacing when she realized she was down to the one she kept because it was Jake's favorite and she used it to ground her in feelings of him—love, safety, home—when she really needed it the most. She closed the drawer again. “I just... wonder if there wasn't something more.”

“Something more like... what, exactly?” McGee asked, watching her.

“Recruitment 101, McGeek,” Tony said, “find the loner.”

Ellie nodded. “Exactly. Criminals, gangs, and terrorists do it. Even cliques in high school do it. People want to identify with a group, and they can easily be exploited by that same need to fit in. I keep thinking that Ensign Doyle was a prime target for recruitment. She's grieving, lost, and in need of comfort.”

“So you think she was killed because she was approached by someone looking to recruit her but she rejected the offer?”

“It's possible. I could be going too far and looking for things that aren't there. I have been accused of that before. Several times,” Ellie said with a grimace. “There are still some at the NSA I haven't lived down.”

“But you pegged Parsa, right? You were the one that identified him as threat.”

“I did, but there are others I picked that never came to anything,” she said, tapping her pen on the paper. She looked up as Gibbs walked into the bull pen. That did not look good. “What happened? Is he not our guy?”

“He's dead.”

“Dead?”

Tony frowned. “So we get a guy who kills himself to keep from talking. That fits Bishop's theory. She thinks we're looking at some kind of organization here—one that tried and failed to recruit Doyle so she ended up dead.”

Gibbs looked at her. “That so?”

“I had just finished telling them the theory,” she admitted, not wanting him to think she'd kept it from him on purpose. “I didn't have anything to confirm it, just a suspicion that her death wasn't about a sexual rejection. I can look at what we got from him to see if there is any sign of a terrorist connection.”

“I can see if there's any sign of it online,” McGee added, going to his computer.

“I might be able to prove it without leaving this room,” Tony said, and everyone looked at him. He shrugged, standing up to pull up a photo on the plasma. “Thought this was a little weird when I found it, but then we just thought he was the sort of creep that killed a girl who didn't like him back.”

“Does that say _'the flower that has once blown forever dies?'”_ McGee asked, frowning as he rose to get a better look.

“It's from the _Rubyiat,”_ Ellie whispered, and Gibbs turned to her. She swallowed. “There is a group that took their name from that book. They call themselves the Moving Finger. So far, they've never taken responsibility for anything, and while their number _has_ been growing, but back when I first noticed them, I was the only one that saw them as any kind of threat. They were heavy on rhetoric, not action.”

“Do we know anything else about them?”

“Not really,” Ellie said. Gibbs gave her that look again, and she caved. “I did have a theory about them, but it wasn't one that anyone took seriously. Well, aside from Jake. He helped push through warrants for surveillance on the few members we'd identified. Most people assumed he only did it because of me.”

“So nothing came of them?”

“I wouldn't say that, boss,” McGee said, pulling up a new photograph. “This is a recent bombing, took place three days ago in a suburb of London. This article doesn't have a lot of detail, but it does say that authorities suspect the involvement of the Moving Finger.”

“What? That makes no sense. After all this time and care, they target a small building in London? Their target should have been bigger, much bigger. They were so careful—it just doesn't fit. Something's missing here.”

Gibbs grunted, going to his desk and picking up the phone.

* * *

“Talk,” Gibbs ordered, pushing down the speaker button on the phone.

“About what, exactly?” Malloy asked, and across the room, Bishop tensed. Tony moved to put a hand on her shoulder. “Please be more specific than your colleagues but don't waste any time on classified things I can't answer, either.”

“The Moving Finger.”

“Did I mention that to you or did it come up in one of your investigations? I honestly don't remember if I said it or not.”

Gibbs frowned. “Why would you have said it?”

“Maybe because the fake NCIS agents asked me about them when they showed up the second time and now your people in London suspect them in a bombing here,” Malloy answered. “What I know about them is classified. The only thing I can say and technically shouldn't but the hell with not saying it—if they are active, then Ellie could be in danger. She's the one that identified them as a threat, and she may be the only one who saw their real purpose. It was just a theory, and we never had proof, but you know Ellie. She's not often wrong.”

Bishop's mouth opened, but she didn't say anything, still reacting to her husband's words. Gibbs bit back a few of his own. “There a reason you didn't mention this sooner?”

“I told you about the fake agents as soon as I spoke to them,” Malloy said, defensive. “And I told you they asked about classified information. This damned migraine was coming on at the time, and I may have left a detail out. I was mostly concerned with getting the picture without them seeing me do it, and once you had that, it should have been enough.”

“It wasn't.”

“I gathered that. Look, I don't know anything. Not really. There wasn't much to know. Most people thought Ellie was crazy for wanting surveillance on them and I was whipped for agreeing with her,” Malloy said, then his phone burst with static and his voice came out muffled. “Oh, you have got to be kidding. I am not getting in a car with you again.”

“Malloy?”

“Sorry,” he said, coming back to the phone. “They've finally agreed that I can go, so now we apparently get to argue about getting me back to my rooms. Did you actually need something from me? Because I don't know what else I can say—no, wait. I take that back. They connected two people to the bombing. One is known to be a part of the Moving Finger—I assume his presence is why they suspect the group, but I wouldn't have thought that Baraki would have made that kind of move himself—”

“Baraki was there?” Bishop asked, moving closer to the phone. “Are you sure?”

“No. They told me that he was seen going into the building an hour before the bombing, but all they showed me was a generic photo, his driver's license, I think. It didn't feel right, not from what we discussed of the man, but then I don't know what to think of any of this. They also said Charlie Banks was there—that he was the reason I got this job.”

“Charlie as in law school Charlie? He was there?”

“That's what I'm told, but I don't know that I believe anything anymore, Ellie,” Malloy admitted. “My head is still throbbing. I could use about a week's worth of sleep and my favorite pillow, but I left that behind like an idiot.”

“You have a favorite pillow?” DiNozzo asked. “That's kind of... lame.”

“Or sweet,” McGee said, “if you factor in he's talking about Bishop.”

“Oh, hell,” Malloy said. “I had forgotten we were on speaker. I should have—”

“Stick with Adams and her partner,” Gibbs said. “Until we know more of what is going on, you shouldn't be alone. They may have targeted you already.”

“Me?” Malloy demanded. “I don't know anything. How many times do I have to say that before someone actually listens?”

“Gibbs is right,” Ellie told him. “It's not safe. We might have a connection to the Moving Finger here, and we both agreed that if they ever _did_ make a move, it would be a big one. Much bigger than this bombing that's already happened.”

“I... Ellie, we—”

“Need to talk. In private,” Bishop said, biting her lip. “I'll call you later. Promise.”

* * *

Jake ended the call to see Waters watching him. He replayed part of what he'd said over and grimaced. He definitely had said more than he intended to, but then he tended to lose focus when it was about Ellie, and having her suddenly speak on Gibbs' call had thrown Jake off. A lot. He shouldn't have named Baraki, but he had. And he'd shared information with one NCIS team, which made the other one mad, he could tell.

“Thought you said you couldn't talk about it.”

Jake forced a shrug. “You try telling Gibbs and his team no. See how well that works for you.”

“Right. Just get in the car.”

“I thought I said I'd take a cab,” Jake objected, not wanting to be subjected to Waters' driving again. “Really, this isn't necessary, and I can—”

“Gibbs just called and said if anything happened to you, it's my ass on the line, so get in the damned car,” Adams snapped, pushing him toward the back seat. Jake sighed, taking his spot in the back. If he could just get some rest, he could start to think and function again, and maybe then they could clear this whole mess up.

Adams got in behind the wheel, starting the car. Waters took the passenger seat with a grumble, and Adams pulled out into the street. “You did hold out on us. That pisses me off.”

“You don't have clearance. I don't have clearance. We can talk circles around that all day, but it won't change things. I can't tell you what you think you want to know. Believe me, I understand the frustration. Ellie and I went through this almost every day after she transferred to NCIS.”

Adams grunted. Jake was saved from any further debate on that issue when his phone rang. He grimaced, taking it out and hoping he wasn't about to have another conversation like the last one.

“Hey.”

“I thought you weren't going to call until much later,” Jake said, pleased and confused to hear Ellie's voice all at the same time.

“I wasn't, but then I remembered you said your head hurt, and that took me back to the last time I was in the bathroom—you left your prescription behind.”

“Well, that explains why this one is so bad,” Jake muttered, putting a hand to his head again. “I guess I really didn't plan this well. I know I didn't. I'm sorry.”

“You said that already.”

“I can say it a thousand more times,” he offered, not wanting to get into their dirty laundry with an audience. “But that should wait. I wish we'd done this sooner, but I wasn't sure you wanted to.”

“I wasn't sure I did, either. I think there was a part of me that would have let this end everything. I think we might have wanted it, both of us, because it was easier than trying to find a way through it since our other attempts didn't work.”

“The major problem hadn't changed,” Jake reminded her. He'd still been at the NSA for those attempts, and it was always going to be between them as long as he was. “Now it has.”

“I know. And I want to find out what that actually means for us.”

“You do? I didn't—” Jake dropped the phone as the car shook, skidding sideways. The impact knocked him across the car—he'd forgotten his seatbelt—and he hit the other door with a grimace, looking at the shattered glass and crumpled metal in confusion. He wasn't sure if he was seeing things right or not because that was one big truck that had just slammed the other side of the car.

Waters was cursing up front, trying to get control of the wheel. Jake gagged, thinking Adams might already be dead, caught under the twisted metal like she was. He thought he heard a voice, and he looked around for the phone, grabbing for it under the seat.

He had just gotten hold of it when he heard more metal groaning and looked behind him to see someone at the door with a gun.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crash changes the direction of the investigation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, this has gotten longer and more convoluted than I intended it to be. I didn't think it would take as long to get to this point. It's a good reminder of why I'm not good at case fic, though I want to be because mysteries are my first love (sci fi is a good second, or is that historical?) Either way, I was not expecting this to go this long or take as much time as it has.

* * *

Ellie walked away from her desk, needing a minute to think. She had so many things going through her head right now. She didn't even know where to start sorting them out. Of all the things to come up in an investigation, having it be the Moving Finger was shock enough, but then to find out Gibbs had been talking to Jake and that somehow the Moving Finger was involved on his end, over across the ocean, that was a coincidence that just felt _wrong._ She knew there was a rule—no such thing as coincidence, and she agreed. This wasn't one.

She knew it was connected. That connection was obvious in the worst sort of way—in Jake.

He was right about the way others had felt about the Moving Finger. The group wasn't a threat in anyone else's opinion. She had found them, managed to convince—or maybe just bully—Jake into agreeing with her, and he'd convinced the right people to push the surveillance through.

Now he wasn't with the NSA and the Moving Finger was linked to a bombing and possibly the deaths of Ensigns Doyle and Murray.

Jake was over there, in England, where the bombing had happened. Ellie swallowed, trying not to be sick, and then she got a flash. Her medicine cabinet this morning. She shook her head and dug out her phone, looking for the only number she didn't recognize, knowing from the number of calls who it had to belong to.

She pushed the button, starting a call. She didn't know if she was doing the right thing or not, but she knew she was making this call. As soon as it connected, she managed one word. “Hey.”

“I thought you weren't going to call until much later,” Jake said, but she thought he sounded glad to hear from her. She was glad to hear from him.

“I wasn't,” Ellie admitted, and she went ahead with telling him what got her to call. “But then I remembered you said your head hurt, and that took me back to the last time I was in the bathroom—you left your prescription behind.”

“Well, that explains why this one is so bad,” Jake muttered, and she wished she could do something about the pain that she could hear in his voice. “I guess I really didn't plan this well. I know I didn't. I'm sorry.”

She wasn't sure he should be the one apologizing. “You said that already.”

“I can say it a thousand more times,” he offered, and she bit her lip, reminded of just how sweet he could be, especially when he was trying to make something up to her. “But that should wait. I wish we'd done this sooner, but I wasn't sure you wanted to.”

She swallowed, still unsure about that. “I wasn't sure I did, either. I think there was a part of me that would have let this end everything. I think we might have wanted it, both of us, because it was easier than trying to find a way through it since our other attempts didn't work.”

“The major problem hadn't changed,” Jake said. “Now it has.”

“I know,” Ellie agreed. She was still a bit in shock about him giving up the NSA, but if he had, and if he _had_ done it for her, then she wanted to see where it went. “And I want to find out what that actually means for us.”

“You do?” Jake sounded stunned and so happy she almost regretted saying it, like she was going to disappoint him. “I didn't—”

Jake's voice cut off, and she flinched, moving it from her ear as metal screeched and glass broke. She shook her head, trying to make sense of what she was hearing. Thumps, more metal screaming and twisting, and more shattered glass. “Jake? Jake!”

She rushed back to the bull pen, aware of the eyes on her as she did. She spoke into the phone again, still hoping to hear something. “Jake?”

“What is it, Bish?” Tony asked, rising from his desk chair.

“Car accident. I think. I... We were talking, and then I heard what I think is a crash, and now he's not answering.”

“I'll pull up his phone on the computer, get a location. We can get emergency services there, to start with,” McGee told her. “Give me just a second, okay?”

She nodded, putting the phone on speaker. She couldn't hear anything now, not even breathing. She swallowed, and there was Tony, touching her arm again.

“People walk away from car crashes every day,” he reminded her, and she nodded. “Breathe, Bish. You don't even know that he's hurt yet.”

She grimaced. “He's not answering when I say his name and—the call just ended. McGee?”

“The phone is still on,” McGee answered. “We can trace it. We can even call it back if we need to, but just stay calm. We don't know that anything's gone wrong yet.”

“You mean besides the car accident, right? Because I know what I heard.”

“We've already got emergency crews on their way,” McGee assured her. “I gave them the location from the GPS in Jake's phone. He will be okay.”

Ellie nodded, wishing she believed that.

* * *

Jake palmed his phone, ending the call, and hoping that it wouldn't be seen as he followed the gunman's silent instruction to get out of the car. He didn't want that man hearing Ellie's voice and panicking, and he also didn't want her to have to hear what might be coming if he left the line open. He couldn't let her hear him die.

He followed when the man had pointed with the automatic rifle, trying not to think about how many bullets that gun could fire in seconds. He didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't want to die here, not when he thought maybe there was a chance he and Ellie could fix things. He just had to stay calm, keep from doing anything that would get him killed.

Other than keeping the phone. Ellie already knew there was an accident. She would get the police and ambulances here, and maybe that would save Adams—if they weren't all about to die anyway. He didn't know why they wouldn't just have shot them instead of getting them out of the car, and he wished he could warn the emergency personnel about the gunmen, but he might need the phone later. He pushed it up his jacket sleeve, wishing he'd changed into another suit. That would have given him another layer to hide it under.

He looked over to see the gunman's friends pulling Waters out of the front seat. The other man glared at Jake, and he frowned. He hadn't done this. This wasn't his fault, but somehow he was getting the blame for it as the other two dragged Waters away from the car.

Wait, what was this? They were taking prisoners?

Jake didn't understand. This wasn't the way the Moving Finger worked. They had never taken hostages before. None of this was right. It wasn't them. Was someone trying to frame a terrorist organization? That was insane, wasn't it?

“Get the woman.”

Jake shook his head. “She's hurt. She may be dying. You don't need her. Let the ambulance take her when it comes.”

The gunman jerked Jake forward, putting the gun to his head. “You. Shut up.”

Jake looked back at Adams, seeing them yank her through the twisted window of the driver's side door. That hole shouldn't have been large enough, and with the injuries she already had, she'd be fortunate if she didn't die as soon as they got her out. This wasn't right.

“Look, if you need prisoners, you have two already. She's not going to be any use to you like this. If you—”

“Shut up, you idiot,” Waters yelled at him, and the gunman stuck him in the stomach with the butt of his rifle.

Jake winced. That _was_ his fault. Still, he didn't think Adams would survive if they took her from here. The only hope she had was being left for the emergency crews that had to be on their way already. “Please. Just let her go.”

The gunman grunted, and that was all the warning Jake got before pain exploded in his head.

* * *

“McGee?”

Tim didn't want to face Bishop with this. He didn't. He swallowed, aware of Tony and Gibbs' eyes on him as well. “Um... Preliminary report from the first responders—they found two vehicles at the scene, both abandoned. One large transport, and the local police have already confirmed it was reported stolen early this morning, and the unmarked car used by the local NCIS agents and checked out to Agent Adams.”

Bishop bit her lip. Tony grimaced. Gibbs gave him a look. McGee sighed. “Only one person on the scene. A woman. Agent Adams.”

Bishop's eyes widened. “What? Where is Jake?”

“They don't know. They're asking for confirmation that there was more than one person in the vehicle, and there's a local canvas going on now, seeing if maybe someone wandered away from the crash in a daze. So far nothing, but that doesn't mean that anything bad has happened to him. Not yet. He could be just confused from the accident, like they said.”

“He did have one of his migraines,” Bishop agreed. “They can get really bad sometimes. He'll lose days to them. He has before.”

Tony looked at her. “You never mentioned that.”

She shrugged. “It's not a secret. It's just that they've actually been mostly under control for the past few years. His doctors had him on a preventative medication, and he'd figured out a routine that kept his stress levels down, which helped.”

“Until he moved halfway across the world.”

She nodded. “Until then.”

Gibbs turned back to McGee. “You able to access the local traffic cameras?”

“I should be able to,” Tim answered, already having started working on it as soon as he had heard about the accident. “It will take me a while, though. If the local NCIS office has access to it, we might be able to expedite it, but with the international complication—”

“Just get it done, McGee.”

Bishop frowned, turning to him. “The phone. You said it was still on. Can we still track it?”

“Yes,” Tim answered, though as he started doing it, he had a bad feeling. He tried to narrow down the search, but all he could do was grimace, pulling up the information on the plasma. “It's no longer on. Best I can do is the last cell tower it pinged off of, this one here.”

“That's a lot of ground to search,” Tony said, looking at the highlighted area served by the tower. “We're gonna need people on the ground.”

“I'm going,” Bishop said. She shook her head before anyone could object. “Jake is still my husband. I have to be there. Whatever happens, I need to be there. I am not going to sit still here. Even being in MTAC won't be enough. I have to find him.”

“You sure about that? You didn't go for him before,” Tony pointed out, and Gibbs gave him a look that was just about a slap. Tony winced. “I'm just saying—”

“I know,” Bishop said. “That was different. Jake wasn't hurt or in danger. Now he is. That changes everything.”

* * *

Jake opened his eyes slowly, his head throbbing worse than when he'd had the migraine, which he hadn't thought possible. He looked up into the face of the man from outside the car, and he swallowed, shifting his position enough to catch himself, metal clanging against metal as his movement stopped, restrained where he was.

He felt the dirt against his skin and realized his jacket was missing. So was the phone, then. Damn. Jake hadn't thought he'd get to keep it, but he'd still wanted to hope. That was his way out, and now he was stuck.

“You are Malloy.”

“Um...”

The other man smiled. “Do not bother denying it. We know who you are. We have been watching you.”

“That was you?” Jake asked, and then he winced. That was stupid of him. He knew better than to say that.

The other man nodded. He smiled, and Jake swallowed. He didn't know why did they'd taken him, but maybe if he did, then he might be able to get himself freed. “You are an interesting man.”

“Me? I don't think so. I'm... I'm nothing, really. Just a lawyer.”

“You are a spy.”

Jake snorted. “You're insane. Do I look like a spy to you? I'm not. I'm a lawyer. I went to law school in—”

The other man hit him, and Jake's head spun. He gagged, spitting out what might have been blood or vomit, and he swallowed it down, not looking up again. He knew that almost everyone assumed that the NSA equated to spies and eavesdroppers, people who heard and saw everything you did. That wasn't true, and Jake wasn't even a part of that, not in the same way. He made sure that the watching they did was legal. He got court orders. He made sure they followed the law. He wasn't a spy. He did make some spying possible, he supposed, but he wasn't what this man thought he was.

“Tell me what you know of the Moving Finger.”

“I don't know anything,” Jake said. “I told the fake NCIS agents that. I told the real NCIS agents that, too.”

“You lie.”

Jake grimaced. “I'm a bad liar for a lawyer. Everyone says that. I don't know anything that can help you. Are you Moving Finger? Is that what this is?”

“What do you know about them?”

Jake shook his head. “Nothing. I know nothing. I keep telling people that, but no one seems to listen to me.”

“You are lying,” the other man said, taking hold of Jake's neck. “Do not lie again.”

Jake closed his eyes, wondering just how long it would take for them to kill him.

* * *

“Explain the Moving Finger. I don't give a damn about clearance. I want everything you know.”

Ellie looked at her hands. She didn't think she'd hold back anything on them, even if she knew she should. She couldn't make herself care more about national security than she did Jake, and protecting that wasn't going to help him. If he was actually in their hands, then Gibbs needed to know what she did.

“I did tell you most of what I know already,” Ellie began, and Gibbs gave her the look. She sighed. “What I said—what Jake said—is all true. I was the one who saw the group and decided they were a threat. They hadn't taken any actions, weren't responsible for anything, and at best, they talked a lot of talk.”

“Only you saw more,” Gibbs said, and she nodded, looking back out the window.

“I had this sense about them, one I couldn't shake. I kept trying to push for surveillance, knowing that we needed to know what they were up to because if they did strike, it was going to be big. No small measures. This would be large scale. Jake and I both believed that.”

“Did he believe it because of you?”

She bit her lip. “Maybe. Jake never did analysis like I did, not unless I dragged him into it. And I did with them. He asked me to find a reason why the Moving Finger was worth watching. And we did. We were out at dinner one night at Jake's favorite junk food restaurant—you may find this hard to believe, but Jake has always been more into health food than I have—”

“Not really.”

She almost smiled. “Well... I suppose you have a point. Still, if he's in charge of the meals, we actually eat healthy, but even he has his weaknesses, and that was why we were sharing a basket of five alarm chili fries when it came to us.”

“Us?”

“It is as much Jake's theory as mine, but he always said it was just mine,” Ellie said, shaking her head. “I really feel like he doesn't think he's any good at this kind of thing, but he's more aware of things than he realizes and he could have the same analytical skills—he just applies them to the law and interpreting it, not to threats and patterns and statistics.”

“The theory?”

She swallowed. “It came to me that the Moving Finger was created for recruitment. Just recruitment. They grew in numbers because they were able to pull in the ones that were attached to the ideas and then funnel the ones that wanted to take action to the more militant groups. That was why they were always in the shadows, why they never acted or took responsibility.”

“And that's what Malloy used to convince them that this group was worth watching?”

“Yes. The idea was still laughed at, but when the Moving Finger kept increasing its ranks, they didn't even care about the theory. The group was too large to ignore.”

Gibbs grunted. “Then why this? Why bomb a building in London and target low ranking naval officers?”

“They wouldn't,” Ellie said, and she got a sharp look for her words. “Gibbs, I'm not lying. Everything I know suggests that this isn't the work of the Moving Finger at all. They never take direct action. If it was going to be taken, it would have been done on a much larger scale—all through Europe, not just one place in England. And the naval officers don't fit at all.”

“Unless it has nothing to do with terrorism.”

Ellie frowned. “That doesn't make sense.”

* * *

“What have you got for us, Abs?”

She folded her arms over her chest. “First, what have you got for me?”

McGee frowned, and Tony rolled his eyes, reaching over to give him a Gibbs-slap. McGee glared at him, but Tony just nudged him with his elbow. “Tell her what we know about Jake so far, McOblivious.”

“Oh, right,” McGee said, and Abby shook her head at him. Sometimes men were stupid. She _didn't_ know what would make him think she didn't want every detail they had on Jake. She could have gotten into McGee's computer to find it, but she had other work to do, and she wanted to hear everything, not just the facts from the computer. “Well, we know that the vehicle he and two NCIS agents were in was hit by a stolen truck. The impact hit the driver's side and critically wounded the agent driving. She's still in surgery, last we knew. Jake and the other passenger were gone when emergency personnel arrived on scene.”

“After we finally got hold of the CCTV footage, no thanks to McGee's poor statesmanship over there, we were able to see that there had been a third vehicle at the scene, a van, that was used to take Jake and the other agent away. The local LEOs put out a search, and the van turned up burning on the south side of London.”

“Only the last place Jake's cell phone pinged off of was on the _north_ side of the city,” McGee said. “Now, we know Jake had his phone when the crash happened because Bishop was on the phone with him. So we're pretty sure he still had it when he was taken from the scene.”

Abby nodded. “Makes sense. Jake wouldn't have let it go if he was conscious after the crash. He knows enough of how we work to hold onto it.”

“And to shut it off because he obviously had bad company, judging from the arsenal on the guys who pulled him from the car,” Tony said. “We're still doing searches on them, trying to id them from the cameras, but so far, no joy.”

“Gibbs and Bishop haven't touched down in England yet, either,” McGee added. “So now will you share what you have with us?”

“I have one very fake connection to the Moving Finger,” Abby said, getting frowns from both of them. She smiled. “Everyone knows that handwriting is unique, but we also know that good forgers can fake it so that it's almost impossible to tell that it has been forged. This forger was not an expert by any means. I think he may have been hoping we wouldn't look any deeper into Ensign Murray's death because he was sloppy. And I mean sloppy.”

“Wait, didn't someone _want_ us to think that Murray killed Doyle and that he killed himself? Why would they be sloppy if that's what the guy wanted?” Tony asked, eying the note with suspicion. “Something doesn't add up here.”

“Agreed,” Abby said. “Nothing about this makes much sense.”

“Were Doyle and Murray just a distraction? And if so, why?” McGee asked. “They did take Jake, but if they were only after him, there are a hundred easier ways to get him, and none of them involve all these unnecessary complications. Why fake Jake's flight records? Why send actors to pretend to be NCIS agents? Why not just abduct him or kill him and be done with it?”

“McGee!” Abby said, smacking him. “How can you say that about Jake?”

He winced. “I didn't mean it like that, Abby. I was just saying that it seems like someone is going to a lot of trouble to make this more complicated than it has to be.”

“You're assuming that Malloy is the endgame,” Tony said. “Just because they took him doesn't mean that. He could be their means to an end. Think about it—he was the NSA's lawyer. How many secrets does he really know? Answer—enough to make that big old brain of yours explode. So why not take him? He'd be one hell of a target.”

“But is that all it is?” Abby asked. “I mean, if they wanted secrets, they could have gotten them another way. They didn't have to take Jake.”

“Maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves,” McGee said. “We don't know that this conspiracy is centered on taking Jake. We should focus on finding the truth behind Ensign Doyle and Murray's deaths. That's what Gibbs told us to do before he left for England.”

“Right. And that is why I have finished analyzing the blood sample from Ensign Murray. His toxicology results are... weird.”

“Weird how?”

Abby wasn't sure if she should grimace or smile. “Well, for a guy that died from apparent cyanide poisoning, there was no cyanide in his system.”

* * *

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Adams.”

“Gibbs. Figures it's your ugly face I wake up to,” Adams muttered, groaning. She grimaced. “Did I lose my hair? I'm gonna be pissed if I did.”

Gibbs smiled, turning to Bishop. She forced a smile, but it wasn't very convincing. Gibbs faced his former colleague down. “You remember anything from the accident?”

“All business with you,” Adams said, closing her eyes. “Not surprised. Just tired.”

“I bet,” Gibbs agreed. He tapped the bed rail, getting her to open her eyes again. Better. He needed her focused. She was their best lead at this point, and he wanted answers. He had already told the local office to forward all forensics to Abby, but that wasn't enough. He needed more. “Gotta ask, though.”

She nodded. “Not sure... what I can tell you.”

“Start at the beginning, then. What were you doing before I tipped you off to the fake agents that had visited Malloy?”

Adams groaned again. She looked over at the IV. “Give me a bit more of that, and I'll tell you everything I know. I'm easy, you know that, Jethro.”

Bishop grimaced. Gibbs shook his head. Adams was already high to say that, since they'd never shared even more than a passing flirtation, and he didn't know the first thing about her dating habits. Didn't want to know.

“Focus. Bishop is standing here wanting to know what the hell happened to her husband, and she's not the only one who needs answers. What were you working on, and was it enough to get you killed?”

Adams shrugged, then winced when her injuries made themselves known again. “The bombing was our top priority. Seven people dead, another twenty-one in the hospital, and a lot of people wanting answers. We thought we had a break when your friend Malloy seemed to know something about our main suspect.”

“The Moving Finger.”

Adams nodded. “We had a known member show his face on camera going into the building and coming out an hour before the bombing.”

“Bakari.”

Adams looked at Bishop. “That's him. We haven't been able to learn much about him. Our requests for information somehow got backlogged in the proper channels, and we haven't been able to find out more than his name and that he is supposedly connected to the Moving Finger. We couldn't even get confirmation of that.”

Bishop met the other woman's look. She didn't falter, though Gibbs knew she knew more than she was saying about Bakari. She'd asked Malloy about him on the phone. “I suppose it's not much consolation to hear that if Jake was still working with the NSA, you'd have gotten your request by now. They must not have had much success in filling his position.”

Adams laughed. “Figured he was to blame. Pain in the ass, that one, though cute as hell.”

Bishop smiled. “He is. And he was good at navigating that line between agency interests, national security, and need to know. Very good.”

“You sound proud of him.”

“I was. I am.” Bishop shook her head. “What happened with the accident? Jake and I were on the phone when it happened, and I heard the crash, but the line went dead after that.”

Adams shook her head. “Got hit by a semi. Everything's pain after that. Waters was screaming, trying to get the wheel. Then nothing...”

Bishop nodded. “You're tired. We should let you get your rest.”

“What happened after the car stopped?” Gibbs asked, and Bishop looked over at him, frowning. “The medics said you were awake when they arrived. You know more than what you said.”

“Like a dog with a bone,” Adams muttered. “Your husband is... a bit of a hero. He told them to leave me for the ambulance and take him and Waters instead.”

Bishop seemed to be fighting between pride and fear. “Jake... does have a chivalrous streak.”

Gibbs grunted. “Did you hear anything about what they wanted or where they were going? Anything that could identify them?”

“They didn't say much. The accent wasn't American, wasn't from anywhere in the UK, but I'm not a linguist so I can't pinpoint it further. I never saw the face of the one giving orders. I might be able to give a description of the ones that hauled me out of the car.”

“Do it. Bishop can draw the composite.”

* * *

“Wake up.”

Jake opened his eyes again, looking up at his captor. He didn't recognize him from any of the Moving Finger surveillance he'd helped get authorized, not any of the files Ellie had showed him to convince him of their threat. This man was completely unknown. If he'd been someone from the files, maybe Jake could have used what he knew to help save himself or convince the other man he was telling the truth.

He swallowed. “My answers haven't changed.”

“We will see about that.”

Jake gagged. That said torture. He was about to be tortured, and he didn't know how to handle that. He wasn't trained for this. He'd been a paper-pusher. He might have had high level clearance, but he wasn't an agent. He wasn't field rated. He didn't know how to handle this.

“I don't understand,” Jake began, aware of more of his body and the pain he was already in now. “You're not actually with the Moving Finger, are you? Why are you doing this?”

“What makes you say that I am not with them?”

Jake shook his head. “If you were a terrorist, I'd already be dead. This isn't about terrorism, is it? What is it you think you can get from me? I have nothing to give.”

“That is where we disagree, Mr. Malloy. You are very valuable.”

“I'm not,” Jake protested. He didn't think it would do him much good, but he couldn't see why anyone would really think they could use him. He gave up his clearance. He no longer had access to the NSA's resources. If someone wanted that from him, they had waited too long to try it.

“You are. And I know you know about the Moving Finger,” the other man said, putting a knife to Jake's throat. “Do not lie to me now. You were very certain that I wasn't, and not because I had not killed you. You know details. I want them.”

“Why?” Jake choked out against the knife point.

“That does not matter,” the other man said, moving the knife away from Jake's throat and down the front of his shirt. “What matters is that you will tell me everything you know.”

Jake eyed the blade. “What did you do to Waters?”

“Waters was useless.”

Jake swallowed. “He was a federal agent. You—” 

“He's dead.” The words were punctuated by the knife plunging into Jake's side. “If you don't want to end up the same way, you will tell me what I want to know.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Investigations progress. Or don't, as the case may be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this ended up shorter, but I do sometimes like to be the evil cliffhanger type. This felt like one of those moments.

* * *

Ellie spread out her files on the floor. Gibbs had told her to work at a desk, but working at a desk felt wrong. This was how she'd analyzed for most of her life, and she wasn't going to turn her back on what worked, especially not when she needed comfort, the familiar, and another connection to Jake.

_“People think I'm crazy when I say my best memories are of you on the floor,” Jake said, and Ellie looked up to see just the snack she needed to kick start her thinking process above her head. She reached for it, but he pulled it back._

_She lunged for it, but he kept it out of her reach. “That's not fair. No teasing. I need that.”_

_“I know, but you also need things like hydration and sunlight and...”_

_“And?” Ellie asked, leaning into him. She might just be able to get that bag if she managed to distract him. “What else is it you think I need, Mr. Malloy?”_

_“Me,” he answered, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck. She laughed, knowing she should go back to work but not sure she cared about that right now. Most of the time, nothing could come between her and whatever she was trying to understand, but Jake was one of those few things that could, and she loved him for it._

“Bishop.”

She looked up at Gibbs. “I'm sorting through everything I have on the Moving Finger, Bakari, and Jake. I asked for the files from Doyle and Murray, too, though Tony and McGee say that they're close on that end. I'm just trying to tie everything together. I need to know why this is happening.”

“We all need to know,” Gibbs said. He looked her over, and Ellie saw it. She knew it was rare, and it wasn't obvious, even now, but she thought she saw concern there. “You sure you can handle this?”

Ellie nodded. “I can. I—I have to. And Gibbs, for the record, few things ever stopped me when I got started. Jake... was one of them.”

“I know,” Gibbs said. “We're gonna find him.”

“I know we will. I trust you,” Ellie said. Her only worry was what state Jake would be in when they found him. She reached for her cookies and found the package was empty. Wincing, she threw it in the nearest trash bin. When she looked up again, a brand new carton was in front of her face. She had thought she'd grabbed everything the vending machine had, but she'd missed something. “Thank you.”

“Thank me when we get him back.”

She swallowed. “Do you...”

“Do I what?”

“Do you think he'll be alive?”

“Yeah,” Gibbs said, “I do.”

* * *

“Before you even ask, Abby, we haven't heard any more from London,” McGee said, holding up a hand to stop her from asking. He couldn't tell her what they didn't know, and they still didn't have a location for Jake. They hadn't found him yet. Tim didn't know what Gibbs was doing on the other side, and he knew it was killing Tony, it was even bothering him, but they just had to wait.

They had a case of their own. They just had to keep remembering that, and they'd get through this, even if they didn't know what was happening to Bishop's husband.

“We should have heard something by now. Gibbs and Bishop landed hours ago.”

“That doesn't mean they know anything yet,” Tim told her. “Try and stay calm. I need you to help me track down how our killer got to Murray. We assumed that he must have had some kind of cyanide capsule, but there wasn't cyanide in his blood—”

“I am already running additional toxic scans on him,” Abby said. “We _will_ know what killed him. I will not rest until we do.”

“Neither will I,” Tim said, knowing that none of them would get much sleep while Bishop's husband was missing. Bishop was right about it—it was different when he might be in danger.

Or dead.

“McGee.”

He flinched. “I'm sorry. It's hard to keep focused. Tony's not helping much. He keeps going off on his Jake is a spy theory. He seems to think that's the best explanation for all the weird stuff that's going on.”

“It's his way of coping,” Abby said, shrugging. “It doesn't make as much sense as he thinks it does, but he needs it. And you said you needed my help.”

“I do,” McGee agreed. “Tony and I searched Murray before we left the ship. He was never out of our custody until he was in the interrogation room. I don't know how our killer managed to get to him. Unless he didn't, but I know we searched him. I don't understand.”

“Relax,” Abby told him. “This was not your fault. We'll figure out what actually happened to Murray. We just need time, surveillance, and Major Mass Spec.”

Tim nodded, smiling at her. He knew he was right to come to her.

* * *

“You must think you're very clever.”

The other man blinked, and Tony smiled, opening his folder as he did. “I'm sorry?”

Tony snorted, shaking his head. He knew that half the people at NCIS thought he was an idiot. He didn't even care that they did, not most times. He knew exactly how to use it to his advantage, and he often did. This was just another one of those times.

“You didn't think you'd get caught, did you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

Tony nodded. That was what they all said. They were all lying, so it was fitting, he supposed. He took out the photo and set it on the table. “This is you getting our suspect a glass of water.”

“So? Agent Gibbs ordered me to. Nothing wrong with that.”

“There is when you lace that water with a biological agent,” Tony said, taking out another photo and setting it in front of the other man. “This is you disposing of your nasty little gift. What was your plan? Thinking that it would just go out with the bio-hazard waste and no one would be the wiser? We'd all just assume it was from one of our diabetic agents and not bother looking at it. See, now that is almost clever. Except we work with some very smart people around here, Sloane. And we know you're not diabetic.”

“That doesn't mean I put some kind of biological agent in the trash,” Sloane protested. “And maybe I did it for a friend. Putting something in there doesn't make me a criminal.”

“It does when that something killed someone and when you didn't wear gloves to dispose of it,” Tony told him. “You were just too smart for your own good, weren't you? Play it all natural with the no gloves, make it seem casual like you do it every day. Only you don't. And we know it.”

“I didn't—”

“You killed Ensign Murray,” Tony said, slamming his hand down on the table and making Sloane jump, classic Gibbs move. “I want to know why.”

Sloane glared at him, but Tony knew he was about to talk.

* * *

“Bishop?”

Ellie rubbed her forehead. She wasn't ready to think about time differences, didn't even want to think about _time_ right now. If she thought about that, she thought about how long it had been since the crash, since she'd landed in England, since anyone had heard from Jake, and how much he could have suffered in that time.

“McGee. I... I'm not sure I have anything to share right now. I'm not even sure where Gibbs is. I kind of got lost in my work.”

“Can't blame you for that. We've been busy ourselves here. Abby and I were able to find Murray's killer. One of our aides went in to give him water, and he added something with it. He even admitted it to Tony.”

Ellie nodded. “That's good news, Tim. I'm glad.”

“Mostly. He does deny that he did it under orders or that he has any affiliation with any terrorist group. He said he acted alone, but he was using a biological agent that mimicked cyanide poisoning. There's no way it was just a random killing. We're still working on trying to find a money trail or other way to connect him to Murray or Doyle.”

Ellie frowned. “This still doesn't make sense.”

“How is it going on your end? Any word?”

She looked around, aware of how empty the office was and how alone she suddenly felt. She'd ignored it when she was deep in her files, trying to make connections, but now, she shivered, wishing she had at least more of her team with her here. Or Abby's stuffed hippo. 

“Nothing yet. When we spoke to Adams, she described two of the men at the scene, and I sketched them. We added that to the pictures from the CCTV and put out a BOLO—or whatever it is they call it here—and we've been waiting ever since,” Ellie said. She reached for her cookies and found she was out again, probably had been for hours. “I know the lab here was working on the forensics, and they were supposed to share their findings with Abby, but... Well, it's not the same, is it?”

“Not by a long shot,” McGee agreed. “You holding up okay? You know we'd all be there if we could. In fact, if we could wrap up this thing with Sloane, we could probably head over—”

“Sloane only killed Murray. He wasn't on the _Vella Gulf_ to kill Doyle,” Ellie said, and she heard McGee curse on the other end of the line. “Sorry. It's still not there. We're missing too much, and I can't find that piece. It seems like the only connection is Jake, but that doesn't—it doesn't make any sense. Why would someone do this over him?”

“It might not be about him. It's about something he knows or something he can be used to get. Or it's not even about him. Maybe the NCIS agents were the targets.”

“Maybe,” Ellie said, though she didn't believe that. With the ties to the Moving Finger, even if they were fake, it was still more likely that it had to do with Jake. He was the one who got the surveillance on them. Somehow, that had to matter.

“Okay, I have to go. Abby thinks she's got something. Just... call if you need anything. Really. If not us, then Gibbs.”

“I will. I promise.”

* * *

“This technically isn't your jurisdiction.”

Gibbs gave the other man a look. With the director of this office away at a conference in Geneva, Leslie Adams would have been in charge as the most senior, and without her, it would have been Waters. Or this idiot, whoever he was. Gibbs hadn't bothered with a name. He didn't need it. He wouldn't have used it anyway.

“I'm here to find one of mine and you're down two of yours,” Gibbs said. “You really want to argue this with me? You won't win.”

The other agent swallowed. “It's just—”

“Take it up with Director Vance,” Gibbs told him, pushing past him and into the building. Going with his gut, he'd left Bishop behind at the field office when he got the call. He'd made a promise, and he didn't want to be wrong about the one he'd made, but a dead body was a dead body. They'd gotten the call, and London wouldn't have given it to foreigners unless they had any other option.

He walked into the room, shaking his head as he did. This wasn't his first body, not his first murder by a long shot, and he'd seen any number of horrific cases over the years, the sort of thing that gave other men nightmares. This wouldn't rank very high on that list, not even with the obvious signs of torture.

He dug out his phone. “Gonna need you on a plane, Duck.”

“As it happens, Jethro, I was just finishing my reports on Ensigns Doyle and Murray, and I am free for the foreseeable future,” Ducky agreed, a little too easily. “Still, if it is expertise on England that you need, I am afraid that most of mine is out of date.”

Gibbs looked back at the body. “That's not what I need you for.”

“Good Lord. It's not young Jakob, is it?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I don't actually know how Jake spells his full name, but I chose the one for its semi-uniqueness, since Jake isn't ordinary, and I gave him the easy backstory of disliking his full name, just like Abby does, and I could probably go into more detail there, but I probably won't here.
> 
> And Ellie's theory should explain everything, but she's not quite to her lightbulb moment yet.

* * *

Fresh off her triumph in nailing Sloane with his tainted needle, Abby felt like she could take on the world, which was the best feeling, really. She loved it when she found the pieces of something that solved cases, put away the bad guys, and made the world safe again. Her job was so worth it. Always. She didn't always win, but even when they didn't, what they did mattered.

Still, she knew catching Murray's killer wasn't the end of it. They still had to prove, one way or another, that he had killed Doyle. Right now they couldn't be sure, and they couldn't leave it. Murray could just be the fall guy, and that was no good. They did not let that happen, not on her watch.

She headed over to the morgue, wanting to pick Ducky's brain for some answers. She walked in just in time to hear Ducky offer his expertise on London. She smiled.

“Good Lord,” Ducky said, and Abby's smile dropped. “It's not young Jakob, is it?”

“What's not Jake?” Abby asked, stopping in the doorway. She swallowed, not wanting to accept what she'd just heard. That had to be wrong. Her stomach was all knotted up, and she had a very bad feeling. She wouldn't believe it. She couldn't. Not when she was an ocean away from being able to help. Bishop was an ocean away. “And you know he hates Jakob, right? It's like this thing, and not just a small thing but a _big_ thing—I've never actually seen Jake get mad before though Ellie says he has a temper just like everyone else but he got close when someone called him Jakob—Ducky, tell me that Gibbs doesn't want you there to examine Jake's body. Now.”

“Relax, Abigail. I have just been assured that the body in question is not that of our esteemed Mr. Malloy,” Ducky said, putting a hand on her arm. She closed her eyes, letting relief wash over her. She should be more annoyed by Ducky's use of Abigail, but she wasn't, not as long as that body wasn't Jake's. “However, Jethro does believe, and I concur—this body may be what we need to locate him.”

“So you're getting on a plane,” Abby said, knowing that was true. Gibbs wanted Ducky over there, and she couldn't blame him for that. Ducky _was_ the best. She dreaded the day that he ever chose to retire—or that they lost him.

Ducky nodded, reaching for his coat. She watched him pull it over his shoulders, her mind whirling. She knew he needed to go, but she wasn't sure she could leave it at that.

“I'm going with you.”

“You are still needed here, my dear,” Ducky told her. “We have not found everything we need to solve the murder of Ensign Doyle, and that could very well depend on what you can find—”

“I know,” Abby agreed. She grimaced. “I know I should stay, but if I go, I might be able to find the part we really need to find Jake, just like you. And Ducky—Jake is still alive. We believe that, don't we? If I don't go, and Jake _does_ die—”

“Exactly the thought I just had myself,” Ducky agreed, the same fatigue and fear in his voice. He was worried. They all were. She didn't know that _any_ of them could stay here, even if they had an obligation to Ensign Doyle. “Come, we won't have much time. I intend to be on the very first flight I can get.”

“Me, too,” Abby said, hurrying back to her lab. She had to get Bert.

* * *

“Good Lord. It's not young Jakob, is it?”

Gibbs shook his head. With Ducky's habit of using everyone's full first name, Gibbs' own of using their last, and the informality of the rest of the team, one man had almost too many names at any given time. “No. We've got another dead agent on our hands, but no sign of Malloy. I want you here. I need you to give me everything this body will tell you about who killed him and where the hell to find him. We find him, we find Malloy, and we better do it fast.”

He heard Ducky reassuring Abby, and he grimaced. He would rather have kept news of the body to the bare minimum who needed to know. The more who did, the more likely it was that Bishop would hear from the wrong person and get the wrong idea.

“Just make sure you're on a plane,” Gibbs said, not giving Ducky a chance to argue before hanging up. This wasn't a negotiation.

Gibbs looked down at the body again. Waters was a mess. He could have let the local medical examiner take care of the body, but he wanted more than that. He wanted his team, his people. He needed the best on this, not some stranger. Strangers weren't good enough. Whatever happened with Bishop and Malloy—and that mess wasn't done, not by a long shot—when Bishop joined, she became family. By extension, so was he, and Gibbs didn't trust family to just anyone.

Malloy was running out of time. Gibbs' gut told him that, as did the body right in front of him.

“Damn,” the other agent said, coming up behind Gibbs. “Poor Bill.”

“You knew him.”

“I can handle this,” the other agent said, defensive. “This is our office. You don't get to come in here and take it over like that. If not for your friend, Waters might still be alive.”

“You blame Malloy for this?”

The agent swallowed, wincing. “No. It's not like he chose to be taken. No one did. He might have been able to help more—I heard he was NSA—but I don't believe he killed Waters, if that's what you're asking.”

“It's not. You'd be an idiot to think it, and you didn't get here by being stupid,” Gibbs said. He didn't add that there were other, smarter agents as well, and Gibbs knew a lot more of them than he did this one. “Pictures.”

“What?”

“You have the camera. Get to work,” Gibbs ordered, and the other man just stared at him. Gibbs grunted. He'd had several members come and go on his team, but he didn't remember any quite as bad as this one. “Or do you expect this scene to process itself?”

The other agent glared at him, but Gibbs ignored it, needing everything this room would tell him. He should have grabbed Bishop, but he hadn't wanted to bring her just in case they'd gotten it wrong and it _was_ her husband. No one should have to see that.

* * *

Jake jerked awake, heart pounding in his ears. He winced, his whole body aching with a thousand pains. He wasn't sure what the worst of them were, though he had to admit he was surprised to be alive now. Shouldn't he be dead? He hadn't told them anything—which he still wasn't sure how he'd managed that—but then he'd passed out rather quickly into the whole thing.

He kind of wished he was still unconscious, though.

He tried to move, but he was still chained to a pipe. Even that small bit of movement made everything hurt all over again, and he bit back a cry, not wanting to let them know he was awake. Or embarrass himself. He had to figure he'd already been humiliated enough.

“Mr. Malloy. You are awake again.”

“Please... say... you were lying... about Waters.”

The other man smiled. “I'm afraid I can't. Waters wasn't even good for a distraction.”

Jake closed his eyes. “Why... are... you doing... this?”

“I told you—you have information that I need,” the other man answered. He lifted Jake's head, holding it up with the tip of his knife. “So far you have proved quite resistant to my efforts, which both pleases and annoys me.”

“What?”

“If you had been easy to break, then you would not be the source I needed.”

“I gave up my clearance,” Jake said, fighting the pain to be able to speak. He was going to be sick, and the room was too hot. He probably had a fever. “I can't... I don't know anything.”

“Of course you do. You can tell me so many things,” the other man smiled at him. “Why don't we start with how many fingers you want to lose?”

* * *

Ellie rolled her shoulders, trying to get the kinks out of her back. She'd been sitting for too long, stiffening up, but she wanted to keep working. She needed to. She thought that she was getting close. Her craving for chocolate said that, since she was close not only to a deserved reward but also an epiphany, the kind that came with just the right amount of sugar and bitterness, a sort of explosion of taste but on a small scale, a thing some had argued—fictitiously—equal to orgasm.

She shook her head, wincing. Had Tony actually mentioned that movie or was there some other reason she knew about that?

“Bishop.”

She looked up, forcing a smile for Gibbs. “Hey. I was just about to go raid another vending machine. I get the feeling I'm close, but I need a change of food. I'm thinking chocolate, but I might be wrong. I could use some coffee, too. Starting to get a little tired and—”

“Take a break. Breathe.”

“I _am_ breathing,” Ellie said with a frown. “Wait, what is wrong? Something's definitely wrong, isn't it? You have that look and—”

“Just came in from processing the scene,” Gibbs said, and Ellie's mouth went dry. She was glad she was still sitting, since she'd gotten instantly light-headed, and she might have lost her balance if she hadn't already been on the floor. “They found the other NCIS agent. He's dead.”

Dead. The agent was dead.

_“Are you planning on letting me go anytime soon?”_

_“No,” Jake said, sighing against her neck, tightening his hold as he did. “You scared me. I thought I'd lost you. And... I honestly don't know what I'd do if I did.”_

_She rolled her eyes, though she wasn't entirely against being snuggled. One thing her husband had always been good at was holding her. He had wonderful arms, the sort that could outdo safety blankets and comfortable clothes. He was better than both. “Don't exaggerate.”_

_“I'm not,” he insisted. “I'm not as resilient as you are. I think maybe if our positions were reversed, you'd be fine. You'd... You'd face it, handle it, like you always do. Me? I'd probably be a bit of a wreck.”_

_She laughed. “I thought everyone thought I was the train wreck around here. You're order, remember? I'm chaos.”_

_“There is a downside to too much order. There's... no life in it.”_

_“There is plenty of life in you even without me,” she said, leaning her head back so she could kiss him. “But I am glad I'm home.”_

She swallowed. She hadn't meant to let the memory get to her, but she understood now, the way he'd felt then. She didn't know that she'd ever been this worried about him before. His job had always been so much safer than hers. She'd been assigned overseas. He never had. And he'd left the NSA. He should be even safer now, but he wasn't. She could already have lost him. 

She felt sick. “Jake?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Not there. No sign of him at the scene, though we'd know more if we had Abby on the forensics and if someone useful had processed the scene.”

She bit her lip. She wished the team was here, too. She trusted them to find Jake. These others—they were strangers. She knew they should be capable of finding him, of doing their jobs, but she didn't trust it, didn't trust them. She wanted people she actually knew working to find her husband. She wanted to do it herself. She'd been close. She knew it, but what if close wasn't close enough and it was already too late? 

“I don't—do you—he's not—”

“Breathe,” Gibbs repeated. “We don't know anything yet. Give it time.”

She nodded. “I... I still need food. I had a theory forming. I just... If I get back to it, I can—”

“You can rest.”

“No,” she disagreed, moving toward the vending machine. “I can't. Not until I get him back.”

* * *

“Gibbs is not going to be happy.”

Tony nodded, not bothering to argue with McGee's words. There was no point. The other man was right. Gibbs would not be pleased. In fact, Tony could picture the look on his face right now, and it was not pretty.

“He's going to quote rules three, eight, and thirty-nine at us.”

“He is,” Tony agreed. McGee looked at him, and Tony shrugged. What did he expect? An argument? That wasn't going to happen. They both knew that McGee was right. Tony thought there might even be more rules to be thrown at them, too, but they'd at least hear those three.

“We shouldn't have come,” McGee repeated, and Tony almost reached over to smack him.

“What's done is done, McRegret. We're here,” Tony said, pushing open the door. He held it open to let McGee pass by, followed by Abby and Ducky. He brought up the rear, letting McGee lead them into the field office.

Tony had given it thought on the plane ride over. The in-flight movies weren't great, and he hadn't paid much attention to them. He knew that they were breaking rules, and not just Gibbs' rules but other more general rules, NCIS rules. Still, they all agreed on one thing, even if they had a case. This was where they needed to be.

“Gibbs,” McGee said, wincing as he got close. “We were just—”

“What took you so long?”

* * *

_“I think I ruined our date,” Jake said, wincing with the ache in his head. He wasn't sure what was worse, not being sure just how he'd embarrassed himself or knowing that whatever it was he'd done had pretty much killed his chances with the force of nature that stole his encryption form. “At least, I must have. I don't remember very well.”_

_“It's odd for migraines to trigger memory loss. Are you sure that's all it is?” Ellie asked, sounding worried. Oh, no. He must have done something really bad._

_“I think it's more that my brain stops processing things when I'm in pain. They did lots of tests when I first started getting them, and they couldn't find any sign of brain damage. It's just a lack of connection to my short term memory or something. I thought about doing more research into it, but that gave me a headache.”_

_She frowned down at him. “Was that a joke?”_

_“Terrible, wasn't it?”_

_She laughed, cupping his cheek. “I have to admit, that was the most interesting third date I've ever been on.”_

_“That is a sad commentary on your life, Ellie Bishop.”_

_“Not at all,” she told him, leaning down to kiss his forehead. She pulled back and looked at him. “Are you sure you're okay?”_

_“Fine. I admit it—you discovered my very secret and very pathetic plan to gain your sympathy for life by succumbing to my unpredictable and horribly embarrassing migraines. Did I go through with the pièce de résistance and puke on you?”_

_She shook her head, smiling. “No, and that's a good thing because it would have been a dealbreaker.”_

_“In that case, get out now,” he advised. “I'm not good with alcohol, either.”_

_“That explains it, then,” she said, and he frowned. “You had half the bottle of wine before we even got to order our food.”_

_He winced. “I was nervous.”_

_“I know, but if the migraine came on while you were drinking, it explains a lot,” she said. “And that is not actually a dealbreaker.”_

_“Good to know,” he told her with a smile. She smiled back, and he closed his eyes, relieved to know that he hadn't ruined everything, not yet. She was special, and he didn't want to wreck this. Not now. Not ever._

* * *

“You have a surprisingly high tolerance for pain.”

Jake eyed the his hand, or really what used to be his hand. He couldn't really decide what color that was now, but at least it wasn't a reddened, bloody stump. When he was asked which ones he wanted to lose, he'd expected more cutting, but breaking them was enough for him.

“I don't,” Jake said, since he had passed out before the third one broke. He'd been grateful, at least until he woke to have the fourth broken and pass out again. He figured that was the pattern he had to expect for a while, at least until he ran out of fingers.

“If you were only a lawyer, you would have been making up information by now,” the other man said. “You are not just a lawyer.”

“Or... I... don't know... what you... want me... to tell you.”

“You do,” the other man insisted, lifting a finger on Jake's other hand. He jerked away, trying to free himself, but he caught against the pipe as he had every other time before. The other man laughed. “That's more of what I expected.”

Jake sighed. “I don't... know... anything.”

“That's not true. You know plenty. Or... is it your wife who has my answers?”

Jake shook his head, desperate. He knew he couldn't protect her, couldn't stop it if they went after her. He couldn't let them hurt her. “No. Leave Ellie out of this. She... She hasn't been with the NSA... she doesn't... have clearance. She wouldn't know anything.”

“If you want to spare her, tell me what I want to know.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With everyone on one side of the ocean, the investigation continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am trying to tie things together. I promise. I just gave in to the cliffhanger idea again.
> 
> I'm not sure of all the legal ramifications, but I think that the stuff Ellie said happened with Parsa would have had more consequences than the show said, and I went with that theory as well as touching on a bit more backstory in an effort to fill in some blanks.

* * *

_“What about Parsa?”_

_Jake missed the ball, and Gibbs scored. His face was impassive, but Jake didn't know that he didn't believe the agent hadn't asked that question on purpose. Gibbs was a skilled interrogator. Everyone said so. He knew what would unsettle his opponent, and he'd used it._

_“What do you mean?” Jake asked, going over for his water bottle. He could use some time to think, and he knew this conversation wasn't done yet._

_“Your wife was an expert on him. She was in his head. He was in hers.”_

_Jake looked at Gibbs, fighting his own reaction to that. He'd like to use the racquet on him, hit him so hard he couldn't use that stare on anyone. “Are you asking me if I thought Ellie was somehow unfaithful to me with a known terrorist?”_

_“I'm not the first to ask, am I?”_

_Jake tightened his grip on the racquet. “No. You're not. It went around the agency, and some of the others had a few things to say about it, yes. She didn't report the things Parsa left behind for her. The gifts. The hints. Whatever you want to call them.”_

_“They looked at you, too.”_

_“What do you want from me, Gibbs? I'm not a terrorist. Neither is Ellie. She was obsessive. She couldn't stop until she caught him, no matter what I said or what anyone else did. It ate at her, him getting away. She kept thinking she could find him if she had one more piece. I got sick of hearing it. So she stopped telling me. I was relieved when the NSA pulled her from that assignment. I wasn't relieved when you brought her back into it.”_

_“How bad were the repercussions?”_

_Jake shrugged. He didn't really want to think about that. “Could have been a hell of a lot worse. She walked away with the equivalent of a slap on the wrist.”_

_“Because she had a good lawyer or because you took the hit for her?”_

_Jake frowned. “I don't know what you're talking about. Why would you think that I took any kind of hit? Who says there was even one to take? You're forgetting an important factor—even if there was an investigation into Ellie's conduct—and I'm not saying there was—I wouldn't have been allowed to represent her. That would have been a conflict of interest at the very least since they wouldn't have been sure that I wasn't a part of it. Or that I wouldn't be compromised by the fact that she was my wife. Would I have covered it up, they would have wondered? Or would I have betrayed her as she betrayed me? No, Gibbs. I wouldn't have been allowed to be a part of it.”_

_Gibbs fixed him with that stare of his. “Then who defended her? One of your buddies from law school?”_

* * *

“What took you so long?”

“Traffic,” Tony answered, going over to the desk. “What have we got?”

“Finally got someone worth working with,” Gibbs answered, and Tony beamed with pride. Tim rolled his eyes. Of course he would be milking it. Gibbs should be angry—would be, as soon as he knew that they hadn't confirmed that Murray was Doyle's killer. The pieces fit, but not good enough for Gibbs. Not for any of them, really, but Tim didn't think that they could bring themselves to believe that it was more important than being here. Now.

Bishop's husband was running out of time, and they all knew it. They also knew this office was down two agents, and while this wasn't their usual stomping ground, Jake was technically one of theirs. They needed to be here. Not just one or two of them, but _all_ of them.

“I want that evidence,” Abby said. “Well, I want to see Bishop and—Ellie, there you are. I brought something just for you.”

Bishop forced a smile as Abby handed her the hippo. “Thanks, Abby.”

“How are you holding up?” Tim asked, thinking she looked bad. Well, and bad was probably an understatement. He didn't think she'd slept, and those looked like the clothes she'd been wearing before she left the office.

She grimaced. “Admittedly, it hasn't been... great. I've been trying to make connections, and I do think I'm close to something, but then... I keep getting distracted by memories of Jake.”

“We are going to find him,” Abby promised her. She hugged the other woman close. “I am going to start testing that evidence myself, and you know me, Bishop. If there is something to find, I will find it.”

Bishop nodded, stepping back from the hug. “I know. I am glad you're here. All of you.”

“Of course, Elanor,” Ducky said. “Please believe me when I tell you that we would not be anywhere else but at your side during this crisis. We would hardly want you to shoulder this burden alone. Anthony, I wonder if you might escort Elanor to the bistro around the corner? As I recall, they make a rather excellent croque-monsieur.”

“Sounds delicious,” Tony agreed, smiling. “Come on, Bish. You look like you could use some food. I think you emptied the vending machine and then some, judging by that trash.”

She blinked, looking over at the overflowing trashcan and then back at Tony. “I'm not—”

“You said you needed food to make the connection,” Gibbs reminded her. “Go. We're here. We'll let you know if anything changes.”

“I'm going to start on the evidence,” Abby told her, “but it will take a while.”

“And me on the body,” Ducky added. “Again, we will need time, though, and you could use a good meal.”

“I...”

“Let us handle it, Bishop,” Tim said. “We're here. We'll get him back.”

Tony pushed her toward the door. Tim had to admit, he didn't think that the food was going to do much, but Bishop was obviously at the end of her rope, and she needed a break, one she wouldn't take on her own.

Tim watched as they left, waiting until Bishop was out of sight before turning back to Gibbs. Abby and Ducky were also gone, off to work. Tim looked at Gibbs. “What do you want me to do, Boss?”

“Go back to the scene. Reprocess everything.”

“Everything?”

“They did it their way. I want it done ours.”

* * *

“I am finding your habit of losing consciousness very annoying.”

Jake almost laughed, but everything hurt too much for that. “Wait until... I start... puking. Then you will have... whole other reason... be mad.”

“I shouldn't have to be angry at all,” the other man said, and Jake wondered if he should try naming him. DiNozzo would have, McGee, Ellie, even Abby. They'd all have given him some kind of nickname. Jake hadn't thought of it until now. “You should have told me everything I wanted by now.”

“I didn't?” Jake asked, trying to remember anything that wasn't a horrible blur of pain. He refused to look at his hand. He didn't want to. He'd seen less frightening things in R rated films. “Guess that proves... I don't know... anything.”

The other man grabbed him by the back of his head. “No. You know. You keep resisting me, but I _will_ get answers from you.”

Jake frowned. He really hadn't said anything when Ellie was threatened? Was that possible? He hadn't thought he was that strong. “Am... going... puke.”

He got backhanded for that, his head hitting the pole when he did. Groaning, he closed his eyes, deciding he wasn't moving again. His head actually hurt more than his hand, which shouldn't be possible.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

“Do you... have... name? Need... something... call... you.”

“You don't need a name.”

“Fine,” Jake muttered, knowing he was about to pass out again and not fighting it.

* * *

“I think you ate half the menu,” Tony observed, and Bishop groaned. Any minute now, she was going to get sick on him. He was not going to enjoy this, and he should have made sure that McGee got stuck with the babysitting. Tony didn't like dealing with vomit. He hated it, especially in these shoes.

Bishop grimaced. “Stress.”

“That's gonna come back and bite you in the ass, Bish.”

She pushed back her chair. “If it gets Jake back, I don't care.”

“So you're firmly in that boat, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you seriously asking about our relationship right now? Jake is missing. He's out there in the hands of a killer. I can't think about the future or what any of this means for our marriage right now. It doesn't even matter if we can't find him before he gets killed. We have to find him. Nothing else matters.”

Tony nodded. “I understand.”

“Do you? Because you asking me that—”

“Sometimes it helps to have something to look forward to. Maybe making some plans for after you get him back will make it—”

“I don't want false hope, Tony,” Bishop told him. “I want... I want Jake back. It's not enough to say he'll be fine or that we'll find him. We don't know he'll be fine. We can almost guarantee that he won't be. Gibbs didn't say it, but I heard the other agents talking when I went to the vending machine—Waters was tortured. That means that Jake...”

Was being tortured now, most likely. Damn. Tony hadn't known that. Gibbs hadn't said anything about the body, probably trying to keep that information from Bishop. No wonder she'd eaten everything at the bistro. She must be going out of her mind.

“You're right. He's not going to be fine, but he's not dead yet. None of us have given up on him. We came all the way across an ocean to find him. We won't stop until we do.”

“Neither will I,” Bishop said. She got to her feet. “I need to get back to work. I know I'm close.”

Tony wasn't about to argue with her. Maybe Ducky could drug her, give her a few hours of peace. “Let's go.”

* * *

_“You've effectively tied my hands with this, you know. How do you expect me to prepare a defense if I can't actually know anything about the case?” Charlie asked, leaning back in his office chair. He set down his pen and looked over at Jake. “I remember we used to joke about liking a challenge back in school, but this is ridiculous.”_

_“I can tell you exactly what defense I'd prepare, and that's really all you need,” Jake said. He looked down at his hands. “It might not even come to that. I'm just covering all our bases, that's all.”_

_“You and I haven't really spoken in years, but you still came to me.”_

_Jake shrugged. “You're the only one in our school who had even a semblance of a conscience. It's funny. I never thought of myself as an idealist until that first year of law school. Then it seemed all too clear that I was.”_

_Charlie laughed. “Why do you say that like it's a bad thing?”_

_“You know where I work.”_

_“I have to admit, it is one of the last places I ever thought you'd say you were working,” Charlie teased with a smile. “It doesn't suit you, but you've done well. The clothes, the car... Not too bad. Also not looking good for this case.”_

_Jake folded his arms over his chest. That poked at old wounds, ones he didn't want reopened. “I'm not living outside my means. Ellie has her own accounts, and our savings are good. I can give you the financial records if I have to. We don't need money.”_

_“Law school is expensive. Some of us are still paying off our loans.”_

_Jake looked away, not wanting to discuss that. “It's not an issue. You're twisting that on purpose. All I wanted to know was if you were willing to take this on if need be, but since you're just going to—”_

_“Relax, Malloy. I'll take your case.”_

* * *

“Where are we at?” Gibbs asked, coming into the lab. Abby had apparently been more successful in winning over her local counterpart, since it looked almost like her lab back home, and she was fully in her element whereas Ducky was cramped inside the same room as the forensics team instead of his more familiar ground in the morgue.

“I brought back more for Abby and Ducky to look at, but I admit, I didn't get much. Most of what I found had already been bagged and tagged by the agent who worked with you earlier. I took more pictures, got measurements, and made a three-dimensional model of the space—”

“Only that was a complete waste of time because Waters wasn't killed where his body was found, which McGoober should have known,” DiNozzo said and McGee glared at him. “I've been going through CCTV around the area, but the guy did his homework, picked a blind zone to dump the body. Looking into private systems now. So far nothing.”

Gibbs looked over at Ducky. The medical examiner nodded. “As you know, Jethro, Agent Waters was given the relative mercy of a quick death. Though he was obviously tortured before he died, the wounds were superficial. He could have sustained several more before he bled out, if he was even allowed to do so.”

“You think the torture was a misdirect?”

“Oh, no,” Ducky disagreed. “I believe it was done on purpose, though not necessarily to extract any information from Waters.”

“What?” McGee asked with a frown. “Why would he torture Waters if he didn't want information? You don't actually think this guy did that for fun, do you?”

“It was for us,” Gibbs said. “This guy wanted us to know what he was likely doing to Malloy.”

“Exactly,” Ducky agreed. “I fear we will find much graver wounds on Jakob when we finally locate him.”

“Why would his kidnapper do that?” McGee asked. “Letting us know that he's torturing Jake would only make us more determined to find him faster.”

“Unless the whole point was to throw off the one person who has all the pieces and could put them together,” DiNozzo said, looking at Gibbs. “She ate almost everything on the menu. That's above and beyond stress eating. She still said she was close, though.”

“She is,” Gibbs said. He had a feeling Bishop would come through with the breakthrough they needed, but it would still take time.

“I am closer,” Abby said, grinning. “I may just have a—Bishop. You okay?”

“What? Oh. Yeah, I'm fine,” Bishop said, though that was hard to believe. Her shirt was untucked and stained, and some of that everything from the bistro had gotten on her pants as well. Her hair was a mess, and her eyes were so bloodshot she looked more drunk than sleep deprived.

“Perhaps you should get some rest, Elanor. You look rather done in.”

Bishop shook her head. “No. I can't. I—”

“Bishop—”

“I know why they took Jake.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A theory and a possible suspect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was with Ellie on thinking that the theory was better before it was said. It didn't seem as good once I got them out on paper, as it were.
> 
> And I kind of worried myself with my idea for backstory, again.

* * *

“Let me guess,” Jake said, swallowing down the taste in his mouth, “I puked... on you. Now... You are... very angry.”

“You are an intelligent man, though you are not behaving like one.” The other man lifted Jake's finger, and he screamed, unable to contain his reaction. That hurt. Saying that, though, that was the kind of understatement that deserved a Gibbs glare. “This can all end. No more pain. No more injuries. Just some basic information.”

Jake shook his head. “Why would... you think... I'd help... you? My hand... ruined. And... the rest of me... not much... better.”

“You're not dead yet. There is so much more I can do to you. Things you have not even begun to contemplate.”

Jake didn't want to think about what else could be done to him. He'd already been through enough, but he'd also seen photographs and other documentation on victims of torture. He knew how bad it could be. This was actually nothing.

“You could make this easier on yourself.”

“No.”

“That is disappointing.”

Jake snorted. “Thought... you liked... it.”

“You mean, I take a perverse pleasure in hurting you?” Laughter made Jake cringe, and the hand on the back of his neck was worse. “I told you how to make this simple.”

“And I... told you... Don't know anything.”

“You do. I don't know why you keep denying it. Would it help if I showed you the papers with your name on them? You were the lawyer. You know a lot more than you're saying. You always have. And if you don't start talking, I will go after your wife. I'll make sure I kill her right in front of you, and by then, you will be begging for death.”

“You have... empty speeches,” Jake said. “If... you wanted... me dead, would already be... dead. If... you had... Ellie or... could get... to her... You would have... done it. You... bluff... badly.”

“Hurting you isn't a bluff,” the other man said, reaching over to snap one of the fingers on Jake's other hand. He howled, but the sound was covered by the laughter in his ear. “We are only getting started. And you are running out of fingers.”

“I suppose... I have... toes.”

“No, no. I think it isn't enough to break bones with you. You seem all too able to cope with that. Is that something to do with your past, perhaps?”

“You're fishing.”

“Am I? What you know about the Moving Finger is not public record. Other things are. Things I'm sure you don't want known by just anyone. Things that hurt you more than a broken finger or five of them.”

Jake shook his head. “No. Not... public record. Told you—bad bluff.”

“Your problem, Mr. Malloy, is that you think I'm bluffing.”

* * *

“Out with it,” Gibbs ordered, and Ellie swallowed. Now that she had to explain it, she wasn't sure of herself, though she'd been convinced when she was in the other room. She'd found the last piece, and it all fell together. It sounded perfect when she had thought of it in the middle of drinking a strange British soda, but now she wasn't sure that it was anything more than the stress of the last few days making wild connections in her tired brain. “Now, Bishop.”

“It's...”

“We are all very curious, Elanor,” Ducky said, moving toward her, “but you might consider getting some rest before you tell us. You look quite done in.”

“No, I...” Ellie took a deep breath, having trouble doing this with an audience, which wasn't like her, not really. She worked alone at the NSA, but she was no stranger to briefings, and she often had to report what she found to Gibbs and the rest of the team. This shouldn't be any different. “I'm sorry. It was all very clear when I walked in here.”

“It doesn't have to be perfect,” Ducky assured her, touching her arm. “Take as long as you need to compose yourself.”

“Don't give a damn about perfect. I just want to know what you're thinking,” Gibbs said, and Ellie nodded. Abby looked around, and Ellie realized she'd left Bert in the other room.

“I was thinking about chili cheese fries,” Ellie began, getting looks from just about everyone. She forced a smile. They knew about her food associations by now, and this one shouldn't have surprised her. “The part I kept coming back to was how none of it fit with what I knew about the Moving Finger, how it wasn't like them. Too overt but also too small, nothing that fit their previous activities. It almost seemed like someone _wanted_ the Moving Finger to be blamed.”

McGee frowned. “Why frame a terrorist organization?”

“To get away with murder?” Tony suggested. “Think about it, McMystery Novelist. If you wanted to kill someone but not take the fall for it, wouldn't you pin it on someone that multiple government agencies can't stop?”

“The terrorist group could just deny responsibility. Since most of the time they'll brag about it, it would come out,” McGee said, folding his arms over his chest. “And if it was about murdering someone—who was the target?”

“Charlie Banks,” Tony answered, making McGee frown. “Ah ha. I got you there, didn't I, former probie? The victims of the bombing included one Charlie Banks, who just happened to go to law school with our very own Jake Malloy.”

“Law school Charlie,” Ellie agreed. She caught the looks again and shrugged. “Both Jake and I called him that. He was always changing jobs and firms, and it was just easier to reference him with law school to identify him quickly. We worked with two Charles, another two Charlies, and even one Chuck at the NSA alone. Jake liaised with dozens more at various agencies.”

Gibbs looked at her. “There a reason why anyone would kill Banks?”

“To my knowledge, no,” Ellie said. “Charlie was... nice. Jake said he was the only one at law school who wasn't there for the money.”

Tony eyed her suspiciously. “You mean Jake was there _for_ the money?”

“No.”

Gibbs gave Tony a look, and McGee hit him. He rubbed his shoulder, glaring back at him. “It's a valid question.”

“Not when Jake actually comes from money,” Ellie said, grimacing. She shook her head. Jake really didn't like talking about that. “It's not important. What is important is that if someone wanted to frame the Moving Finger, they would need Jake.”

“Okay, I'll bite,” McGee said. “Why?”

Ellie grimaced. “I suppose it doesn't matter which reason they might have for wanting to frame the Moving Finger. Either theory leads to the same conclusion about Jake's involvement—”

“Back up,” Gibbs said. “What's the other reason for framing the Moving Finger?”

“It actually goes back to the chili cheese fries,” Ellie said, and Gibbs nodded in understanding. “If what we suspected of the Moving Finger was true, it is possible that someone might try and frame them to draw them out into the open.”

“Can we explain the chili cheese fries?” Abby asked. “Because aside from making me hungry, I don't understand. What am I missing?”

“Right. Sorry. I only discussed that with Gibbs,” Ellie said, stopping to rub her forehead. “Okay, so back when I was at NSA, I was tasked with identifying up and coming terrorist threats. You know one already—Benham Parsa. Another was the Moving Finger. It wasn't a popular opinion. The Moving Finger seemed to be all talk, just a bunch of repetitive rhetoric. Even Jake was skeptical, wanted me to give him a good, solid reason for us to monitor them. I couldn't, not at first.”

“I bet you have other means of persuasion with Jake,” Tony began, and McGee hit him again. “Ow. That really hurt, McGrabby hands.”

“It wasn't like that,” Ellie said, though Tony wasn't the first to accuse her of using sex to manipulate Jake into seeing it her way or the first to accuse him of being weak to that. They were wrong. Jake had always been stubborn about doing things the legal way, even when it came to her. “We were eating dinner, throwing ideas back and forth, and we came up with the idea that the Moving Finger was not just talk. They were a recruitment front, kind of like... an employment agency. They picked up members from everywhere, but they shuffled the more militant ones to other groups. They stayed clean, continued to gather people, and used them to supply other terrorists with the followers they needed.”

“That's... actually kind of brilliant,” McGee said, and Tony shrugged.

“It was what convinced Jake to push for surveillance on them,” Ellie said. “He got it, and with the way the Moving Finger continued to grow, they kept surveillance going.”

“But they never found anything.”

“Not anything actionable. The Moving Finger was very careful to stay in the shadows. Which is why if someone _wanted_ them to be guilty of something, they'd have to manufacture it. If they knew that Bakari was going to be at that building, they could have set the bomb themselves to put the blame on Bakari.”

Abby raised a finger. “Um... Who is Bakari?”

“One of the highest ranking members of the Moving Finger,” Ellie answered. “He might even be the leader. No one has been able to confirm it, or at least, they hadn't when I left the NSA.”

“Only Malloy had clearance.”

Ellie nodded. “That's why I said that either reason for framing the Moving Finger meant that they had to go after Jake.”

“Because he got the surveillance authorized.”

“Not just that,” Ellie said. “It's true that he would have been kept up to date with the intelligence they gathered, but that's not the only reason. Jake and I created that theory together—he says it's all mine, but he's wrong—and he has more information on the Moving Finger than anyone else.”

“Wait, what about the SME?” Tony asked. “Don't give me that look, McGee. It's a thing. Martinez is one. Was, I guess. For Parsa's sister. Subject Matter Expert. Who is it for the Moving Finger?”

“I don't know,” Ellie admitted. “It used to be me after I was ordered off Parsa, but after I left, I'm not sure who got assigned to it.”

“Making their reason for going after Jakob two fold,” Ducky said. “Not only would they have him as one of the most valuable resources on the group, but they would effectively hamper you—the other one.”

She nodded. “I think so.”

“Do you think this SME, whoever they are, is behind the bombing?”

“It's possible,” Ellie said. “I can't say without knowing who the SME is, but it would not be the first time that someone who saw a threat but couldn't prove it went to extreme measures.”

“Murder's more than a little extreme,” McGee said, “that bomb killed innocent people.”

“We need to find out who that SME is,” Gibb said. “They just became our prime suspect.”

* * *

_“What do you know about the Moving Finger?”_

_Jake looked up at his office door, frowning. He didn't remember that analyst, though he didn't know all of them by name or sight. He knew most of the ones he did know through Ellie. She'd made sure to introduce him to her colleagues, though he'd never reciprocated because he wasn't that found of his fellow lawyers. Now, of course, he didn't know anyone Ellie worked with, not since she transferred to NCIS._

_“Why do you need to know about them?”_

_“They're my assignment,” the analyst answered. Jake tried not to grimace. Of course Ellie's work had to be reassigned. That was bound to happen. Still, he felt it like a kick in the gut. She really was gone. Not from everything, but from so much. He felt like she'd gone to a foreign country when she was still sleeping in the same bed as him._

_“I'm sorry. I'm not sure why you came to me.”_

_“You're the one that got the surveillance approved. Your name is all over the documents.”_

_Jake shrugged. “That doesn't mean I can tell you much. My name is on hundreds of briefs. I don't know that I could tell you what half of them say anymore, not without rereading them. If there is something specific you need, I can consult the files.”_

_“I was hoping for at least a general impression.”_

_“I'm a lawyer. I don't do impressions. Much to some people's disappointment, I'm told. They want to see a good Atticus Finch or Daniel Kaffee.”_

_“Who?”_

_Jake put a hand to his head. “Would it help if I said Perry Mason?”_

_“Who is that?”_

_“Never mind,” Jake told him, not bothering to explain. He knew too many lawyer jokes, quotes, and movie references, and he didn't need to repeat them. “As I said, if you do want information and need something specific, feel free to ask, but if you don't—”_

_“You really know nothing about them? Not even Bakari?”_

_“The name sounds familiar,” Jake said, noncommittally. He just wanted to be left alone. The Moving Finger reminded him of Ellie, which reminded him of their last fight—the worst they'd ever had, actually. “But I would still have to look at my files, and I have a meeting in—oops, two minutes now. Can I get back to you later?”_

_“Sure. Of course.”_

* * *

“Give me his name as soon as you get it,” Abby said. “I will give you everything I can on him. All I need is a name.”

Tony smiled. Abby was out for blood. Never a good thing. “I thought you had something for us already, Abs.”

“I did, or I will, but I need to do a little more before a Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs report,” Abby said. “Speaking of, I need you, McGee. Come. We need to do a search while Ellie makes her phone call.”

“Sure thing,” McGee said, letting her pull him over into the office.

Bishop took out her phone, hitting a button and starting to pace as she waited for the call to connect. Tony would have said a lot of things if she wasn't still in the same room as them. Should she even be here? Or should they let her keep working because she needed it or because they needed her? Her theory was their best lead. It even explained the faked link to the Moving Finger in Murray's stuff. This SME could have done it to bring Bishop in on the investigation.

Only he had to be over here, didn't he? He was behind Jake's abduction. He had to be watching the torture, didn't he?

“Martinez said she'd get back to me,” Bishop said, hanging up the phone.

Tony leaned back against the wall, studying Bishop with a frown. Sure, she looked like hell, dirty and disheveled. She'd been one step from the drunk tank or the looney bin when she walked in and announced she knew why Jake had been taken. She hadn't gotten better in the time since then.

“She made another inappropriate comment, didn't she?” Tony asked, watching Bishop grimace. “Damn. What did she say?”

“Nothing important. And she doesn't—didn't—know that Jake had been abducted.”

“The NSA didn't know about it?” Tony shook his head. “That doesn't track. The NSA is based on paranoia. They had to know. They didn't just let someone with his knowledge and clearance go. No one in their right mind would do that, Bish, and definitely not them.”

Bishop shook her head. “That doesn't mean that Martinez knew. I know she didn't. She just—it wasn't even what she said. She only had to bring up his name.”

“You've held it together so far,” Tony said. “What changed?”

“You said yourself it was just as much Malloy's theory on the Moving Finger as yours,” Gibbs said. “Now you don't believe that?”

“What if I'm just using that to rationalize things and even... deny my guilt?” Bishop asked. “I was the one that insisted that the Moving Finger was a threat. If I hadn't pushed Jake to get the surveillance—”

“Then they could have gotten away with a hell of a lot more,” Gibbs said. “You identified a threat. Don't second guess that.”

“This is all my fault.”

“Abby's got something. Focus on that,” Gibbs advised, and Bishop tried to nod, though it wasn't very convincing. She was going to blame herself for this for a long time, and if Jake ended up dead—Tony didn't want to think about that.

“What if it isn't enough?”

“It will be,” Gibbs told her, and that Tony hoped she believed.

* * *

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” Abby said, rushing back into the room with McGee on her heels. She ran up to the others, excited. She had it. She knew she did. With a little help from McGee, she had what they needed. This was going to make it all better. “I have it. I mean, _we_ have it.”

“Have what, Abs?”

“A location. Well, a few locations, actually,” Abby said, going over to the computer and pulling up their results. She let everyone see the picture first. “This is a sample I found on Agent Waters' shoes. I tested it, and it did not match with anything else from the dump site, meaning it either came from whatever was used to transport his body or from where he was held.”

“And?” Gibbs prompted, giving her a get on with it motion that had her glaring at him.

“Turns out that this comes from a building material that was very popular prior to World War II,” Abby explained. “With the amount of destruction that happened in the Blitz, and the time in between then and now, there are not that many buildings still standing from that time. At least—not in the area that was serviced by the cell tower that Jake's phone pinged off last.”

“Abby and I were able to narrow the likely possibilities down to only a few structures in the area,” McGee said, and she keyed up the map of the area, showing the cell tower's coverage and then the overlap with the buildings. “Here.”

“You're saying Jake is in one of those building?” Bishop asked, coming over to the computer. “Are we sure?”

“No,” McGee said, and Tony reached over to hit him. He shook his head. “Tony, stop. I'm not going to lie. We don't know that for sure. It's our best lead, yes, but we have no way of knowing that they didn't move him after they found the phone. A smart person would have.”

“No one said this guy was smart.”

“Maybe not, but we also don't have jurisdiction or any legal right to search the buildings, not to mention that we'd be risking them knowing that we were doing a search of the area. We can't narrow it down any further, and if we picked the wrong building to start with, we might panic them.”

“And they'd kill him,” Bishop whispered, shaking her head.

“We are not going to let that happen,” Abby said. She had thought she had what they needed, but it wasn't enough. “Um... If we get the name, maybe we can tie him to a specific building. We've already tried to do that with the men from the attack, but so far we haven't found any sign of them.”

“Keep working,” Gibbs ordered. “DiNozzo, you're with me.”

“If you're going after Jake—”

“Going to see Adams again,” Gibb said. “Call us when you hear from Martinez.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ducky helps Ellie with her composure, and the search continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I allowed myself to fill in some backstory again, which I kind of like and I doubt will ever get contradicted based on the show writing Jake out of things. I'm not sure that it would be my headcanon for every story, but I kind of think that Jake did have family money somehow. That seems to fit with how the show portrayed him.
> 
> And I am still mad at them for throwing in the super cute "Pumpkin Pie/Macaroon" thing in Viral only to go where they did. I love that ritual, though. I think that's obvious by now.

* * *

“You... are... a... monster.”

“And now you understand what you are dealing with.”

Jake closed his eyes, turning away from his tormentor. His hand was throbbing, both of them were, and just about every part of his skin felt like it was on fire from the cuts. He swore there wasn't a part of him that wasn't marked in some way. He'd known what he endured was just the beginning, but he hadn't been prepared for what happened when the man started to prove he wasn't bluffing.

“Isn't it time you told me what I want to know?”

Jake shook his head. He couldn't tell them anything at this point. He couldn't stay awake, couldn't manage much in the way of words. His throat was as sore as the rest of him, and he was having trouble keeping his thoughts together. Too much pain.

“Mr. Malloy, you don't have much time. I can prevent these wounds from becoming fatal, but you need to give me something first.”

“You... have already... taken... enough,” Jake said. “I don't... care... if... you kill... me.”

“Yes, you do. You have a very pretty wife, or have you forgotten that?”

“Leave... Ellie... alone.”

“Tell me what I want to know. And remember—you can't protect her if you're dead.”

* * *

“Let me take you somewhere where you can clean up, Elanor,” Ducky said, and she frowned at him, not seeming to register his words. Poor dear. She'd been up for days, worried out of her mind, and this could not continue as it was.

“I never got a hotel.”

“No, you did not, but Jakob has lodgings. I am certain of that,” Ducky said, and Timothy nodded, immediately pulling up information on his computer. “We can at least make use of them for long enough to get you a shower. Freshening up a bit should help your state of mind, and it is better than doing nothing else besides waiting for a phone call.”

Elanor nodded. “You're right.”

“The address Jake gave NCIS is a few blocks from here,” Timothy said, scribbling on a piece of paper. “Here. I can't guarantee they'll let you in, but it's worth a shot.”

“Go,” Abigail urged. “We'll let you know if we find anything on the cameras. Promise. We are going to get him back.”

Elanor gave her a tired smile that was far from convincing, but Ducky ushered her out of the room regardless. He was not about to let her sit here and fret, and it was his hope that she would not just take the time for a shower but also some sleep. He doubted that she would agree to that suggestion, but if she sat still long enough, she'd likely fall asleep on her own.

That would be for the best, though Ducky was not above sedating her if he felt the situation merited it. She was a stubborn woman, and that was a good thing in many cases, but this was not a time where she was able to judge what was best for her. Her mind was caught up in worries for her husband, and her own physical needs were far from her thoughts.

“Anthony said you ate quite a lot earlier. I am not certain if you would need more food.”

“No, I think I'm still full,” she agreed, subdued. “I just wish I had more to do. I was so set on analyzing the why behind Jake's abduction, trying to find a reason for it, and now that I don't have that to find, I'm not sure what to do. Abby and McGee gave us a place to search, but it's not enough, and as much as I want to rush over there, I don't want to get Jake killed, either.”

Ducky nodded. “Best to bide our time there, difficult as it may be at present.”

“Everyone keeps telling me we're going to find him, and I want to believe that, but I keep thinking that it won't be enough. That we're going to find him after he's already dead, and as much as it hurt when he left, the idea of never seeing him again...”

“I would offer you the same guarantee, but you know I cannot give you more than my words,” Ducky told her. “I have looked at Agent Waters' body and done as much as I could to find answers there. I am afraid there was not much that helped, only harmed.”

“I already knew about the torture.”

“Indeed, and that is quite another matter. The callousness of those agents is unforgivable,” Ducky said. “Still, it is not as though we could expect to keep you in the dark. Your theory about the reason for his abduction leans toward the idea as well.”

“If we don't find him soon—”

“It is best not to dwell on that, my dear,” Ducky said. “You have one of the finest investigative teams ever assembled searching for your husband, and they will not stop until he is found. Jakob may be in enemy hands, but at the same time—he is in ours, and that is no small thing.”

She hugged him, holding on tight. “Thank you, Ducky.”

* * *

“Boss, McGee has a point. If we go searching those buildings, we could end up getting him killed,” DiNozzo said as they neared the car. “That is... if he's even alive right now.”

“He's alive.”

Gibbs got a look for that, but he shook his head. His gut told him that Malloy was still out there. On first meeting, Malloy didn't seem like much. He stammered, babbled on about nothing because of his nerves, but that was first glance. Underneath that was a man who dealt with terrorist threats daily, albeit at a distance, and his level of clearance was nothing to scoff at. He'd also remained relatively calm during that murder investigation, which suggested to Gibbs that he could have been almost as much at home with doing this job as his wife was. Playing racquetball with Malloy had taught Gibbs a thing or two as well. The man was stronger than he looked, stronger than he thought, or he would never have left Bishop instead of fighting for her.

“You know something I don't?”

“Just know the man.”

DiNozzo frowned. “No offense, but Jake didn't exactly strike me as the type that could withstand days worth of torture.”

“Maybe not, but you've never played racquetball with him, either.”

“Not sure what that means,” DiNozzo began, but he didn't finish that thought when his phone rang. He took it out, answering it. “DiNozzo.”

Gibbs shook his head, opening the door to the car. They didn't have time for this. They had to get something to narrow down the search, whether it was from Adams or some other quarter.

“You forgot to charge your phone.”

Gibbs frowned. “What?”

DiNozzo lowered the phone. “That was Vance. Interpol just found a body in France and another in Spain that match the description of two of the gunmen at the accident site. They think they have our bad guys and they're both dead.”

“Damn it.”

“There was a third man,” DiNozzo reminded him. “He's still out there, and he must be the one that has Jake.”

Gibbs gave him a warning look. “You know better than that.”

“Yeah, I do,” DiNozzo agreed unhappily. “They're cleaning up their operation.”

* * *

“Something wrong, Elanor?”

Ellie shook her head. Wrong wasn't the right word for it, not really. She forced a smile for Ducky, trying to reassure him. She wasn't feeling very confident herself, not with Jake still missing. “It's just the room. It's...”

“I would have thought that a hotel would be more of a consolation to you,” Ducky said, and she frowned. “The lack of permanence suggests that it was still his intention or just his hope that he would not remain in England long.”

Ellie smiled for real then, thinking that she _did_ like that idea. “I was just thinking that Jake never leaves messes like this. He keeps his space clean, always has. My mom loved that about him, the way he always insisted on cleaning up after himself and sometimes the rest of us.”

“And yet you stated that young Jakob came from money,” Ducky said. He shook his head. “Forgive the impertinence of my assumption, but does that mean that the sum of his family's assets did not permit for the employ of servants?”

Ellie sighed. This wasn't something she normally discussed—with good reason. That was personal, and she didn't know that she wanted to tell anyone, but Ducky wasn't just anyone. She trusted him, just like she trusted everyone on the team, even Tony.

“You don't have to tell me. It is a very rude question.”

Ellie reached down and picked up Jake's suit jacket, setting it on the bed. “It's really Jake's story, not mine to tell.”

“Very true,” Ducky agreed. “So perhaps you should take that shower now.”

“He brought that picture,” Ellie said, going to the bed stand and picking up the frame. She ran her fingers over it, smiling. “This was taken on our first anniversary. Not our first wedding anniversary. Our first date. Not to be confused with the day we met, either.”

“It is a lovely photograph. You two look quite happy.”

She nodded. “Jake went all out, and then we ended up getting rained on. He was so disappointed, but I couldn't stop laughing. He gave in and joined me, and that was when they snapped that picture—and when, according to Jake, he knew he was going to propose.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she answered, setting the frame back down. “He told me I was the chaos to his order, and he couldn't let me go. Too many years of trying to be perfect and hating every second of it, he finally felt like himself, like he was free.”

“An admirable sentiment, if a tad alarming at the same time.”

Ellie shook her head. “I'm making it worse by leaving things out. It's just... Jake's mother had an affair. His maternal grandfather, who was the one who actually had the money, never really... accepted him because of it.”

“Jakob was the product of this affair?”

“He looks almost nothing like the rest of his family. It was obvious, and even if it wasn't, his grandfather had tests done to confirm it,” Ellie said. “I know I would have hated that man, just based on what little Jake told me about him. Fortunately, he was dead before Jake and I ever met. He just... he held Jake to impossible standards, seemed to act like his daughter's affair was all _Jake's_ fault, not hers, and that Jake's very existence offended him. Jake tried hard to please him, to somehow earn his place in his family, and in the end, his grandfather still disinherited him, cut him off during his last year of law school.”

“Sounds like a very difficult man.”

“The rest of his family is different. They love Jake,” Ellie said. She sometimes suspected they were less open about that when his grandfather was alive, but she saw it now, at least. “It was just his grandfather.”

“Who, by all accounts, was an idiot,” Ducky told her, and she smiled. “Why don't you go ahead and shower now? It may be just what your colleague needs to prompt the call we've been waiting for.”

Ellie almost laughed, nodding as she grabbed one of Jake's t-shirts and took it with her into the other room.

* * *

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” Abby said as he returned to the lab. She jumped up and rushed over to his side. “Director Vance just passed on a bunch of files to us. We have everything that Interpol has on the two dead gunmen.”

“I expected nothing less,” Gibbs said, and she beamed at him. “Did that get you anywhere?”

“Well, first of all,” McGee began, “it explained why we couldn't find anything on the CCTV for any of the faces from the accident. They'd already left the country.”

“You need to do better than that,” Gibbs said, and Abby frowned at him. She looked over at Tony, who grimaced.

“If they're killing their accomplices, they're cleaning up. Jake doesn't have a lot of time,” Tony told them, and Abby flinched. She didn't want to believe that, and if it was true, if he did die, Ellie was going to take it very badly. “We need something, Abs. Those files that Vance gave you give you anything else? Anything to narrow it down? Or have we heard from Martinez?”

“Ducky took Bishop back to Jake's hotel,” McGee said. “We haven't heard from them yet.”

Gibbs nodded. “What have you got?”

“Maybe nothing,” Abby said, turning back to the computer, “but maybe something. The French authorities had already completed their autopsy on the gunman they found—a Mister Alam Bost—so there's no need to call Ducky back and try and get the body—”

“Malloy doesn't have time for that,” Gibbs said, and Abby shivered. “We need something now.”

“As I said, it may be nothing, but the autopsy _did_ show two things—one that his last meal was made up of rice and palak paneer that they might have acquired at this restaurant, here, around the corner from one of our suspect buildings. And, the other, that he'd been somehow exposed to lead.”

Tony frowned. “You're saying someone tried to poison him?”

McGee shook his head. “It may have been accidental. We looked up the records on each of the buildings in question, and what we found was that more than one of them was recently renovated or due to be renovated. Among the reasons for those renovations was lead contamination.”

“And?”

“And only one building is still under renovation, though the other is considered vacant,” McGee said. “This one, here. It's a thin lead, but it's the only one we've got right now, and if Jake doesn't have much time—”

“We move. Now.”

* * *

“You don't look much better than you did before you left, Bishop.”

Ellie gave Tony a weak glare, not managing more than that. Martinez still hadn't called her back, and she hadn't thought that she and Ducky would get here in time. What if Jake had been dead before they did? Even if Gibbs and the others had made it to the building before her, that didn't guarantee that he was alive.

“I'll be better when we know Jake is safe,” Ellie told them, and McGee nodded. He probably understood what this was like for her more than anyone after what happened to Delilah. “Are we sure he's here?”

“No, we're not,” Gibbs said, and she nodded, expecting to be told to stay behind. “You stick to the back. I want you behind me or DiNozzo. Understood?”

“Yes.”

“Emergency services should be on their way,” McGee said. “We did delay in telling them so that we wouldn't tip anyone off or get into a fight about jurisdiction. Technically, we don't have any here, so it could get messy.”

“If Jake lives, we'll have a good lawyer to sort it out for us,” Ellie said, and then she bit her lip, unable to believe she'd just made that joke.

“Rule eighteen,” Gibbs muttered. “Let's move. McGee, ground floor. DiNozzo, upstairs. I'll take the basement.”

“Yes, boss.”

Ellie followed after Tony, weapon ready. She knew they didn't have any jurisdiction here, but she wasn't about to hesitate if it meant saving Jake's life. She'd shoot anyone who might be hurting him, and she wouldn't regret it.

Tony reached the second floor, starting with the room to the left of the stairs. He opened the door, gave the room a quick look. “Clear.”

Ellie hoped he hadn't done too fast a check, but she moved with him onto the next door. She thought from the distance between the two doors that this room might be larger, and when they stepped inside, she could see partial constructions, plastic over idle machines and broken plaster. Tony went to the left, checking the area behind the plastic screen. She rounded a pillar and stopped when she got a good look at the pipe.

“Jake,” she whispered, lowering her gun and rushing toward the figure slumped against the pole. _Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead. You can't be dead._

“Bishop,” Tony hissed. “The room hasn't been cleared. Get the hell back here. You don't know that it's safe.”

“I don't care,” she yelled back, holstering her gun as she knelt next to Jake, swallowing down the bile in her throat. She was going to be sick. He was a mess, almost unrecognizable, but she'd know him anywhere. He was still her husband. “Jake, it's me. It's Ellie. Can you hear me? Open your eyes. Please. Please, look at me.”

The one eye that wasn't swollen almost shut managed to open, and his face scrunched up in confusion. His voice came out in a low croak. “...Dreaming?”

“No,” she said, wishing she could touch him, but he was so banged up she was sure to hurt him. “It's not a dream. I'm here.”

“Good. Wanted... say... goodbye.”

“No,” she said, looking over at Tony in desperation. He was already on his walkie, telling the others, telling them what they'd found. “Listen to me, Jake, you are staying with me. No running. Not this time.”

“Can't... remember... what... told... him.”

“It doesn't matter,” she said, combing back some of his hair only to have him wince. “Tony, we have to get him off of this pipe. And we need Ducky. He's bleeding—”

“Ellie?” Jake asked, and she stopped, looking down at him. “You... here?”

“I am. I told you that. We're all here. We're getting you help. They're on their way, I promise,” she told him, trying to find a way to stop the bleeding or at least comfort him. “It's okay. We're here.”

“Bye... bye... pumpkin... pie,” Jake said, closing his eyes, his head slumping down again.

She wanted to yell at him not to say goodbye, not to give up, not to let them be forced apart when they'd finally found each other again, but with that much blood, she was afraid she'd already lost him. She fought tears, her voice shaking. “See you soon, macaroon.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team looks for answers while waiting for word on Jake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story keeps getting longer than I thought it would be. I never expected this. And I've got this very persistent idea for another story (no, not Finding Futures) that keeps nagging at me, but I have to finish this one first. I'll have to see if I can do that soon, but I have a few plot details to wrap up first.

* * *

“Goodness,” Ducky exclaimed, forgoing something harsher despite the need for it as he next down beside Jakob, taking in the man's battered state. Elanor looked up, her hand on one of the more dangerous cuts. She begged with her eyes, pleading with him to save her husband, and Ducky feared he might not be able to do so.

“He was conscious a bit ago,” Elanor said. “Few minutes, maybe. I'm not sure. He spoke. He recognized me.”

“Those are good signs,” Ducky agreed. “Now I fear I am going to have to ask you to move your hand so that I may see the damage here. Anthony, please locate some form of tool—we need to get his hands free.”

“I'm looking,” Anthony said, knocking over a paint can in frustration. “Everything but something strong enough to cut those cuffs. Bastards.”

Elanor winced, looking down. “I don't know where to start.”

“My guess is that this wound is the gravest concern at the moment. If we cannot stop the bleeding, we will lose him. However, we do not know that this is the only source,” Ducky said. “Ah, Timothy. I need you to prepare that bandage there. Gloves first, please. I fear Jakob has already been exposed to too much of this room's contaminants, and I do not like the look of that hand.”

“Can't say as I blame you,” Timothy said, pulling on gloves and then opening the sterile packaging. “That's like something out of one of Tony's horror films.”

“McGee,” Elanor said, and he looked over at her apologetically.

“Sorry. I'm nervous. It's harder when it's one of us.”

“Indeed,” Ducky agreed, himself struggling with the knowledge that a life was in his hands. He had long ago started to practice exclusively on the dead, and it was rare that he was called upon to aide anyone who might survive his care. “Still, the important thing to remember is that he is still alive.”

“Barely,” Elanor said. “I don't think they intended for him to be alive when we found him.”

“Or they were using him to buy time to escape,” Jethro said, coming into the room. He carried a pry bar over to the pipe, wedging it in and leveraging it. Elanor moved, getting in place to ease Jakob down to the ground. She held his head in her lap, leaning over him and refusing to cry through sheer will. Poor girl.

“We can check the CCTV and see if anyone left not long before we got here or while we were here,” Timothy said. He looked down at his hands. “Well... after this.”

“How bad is it?” Jethro asked, and Ducky wondered if perhaps the team had created the wrong appellation for his relationship with Jakob. If Elanor were like a daughter, as her predecessors and Abigail were, then perhaps Jakob, too, filled the role of son as did Anthony and Timothy, and not a BFF. “Duck?”

“I believe we have bought ourselves time,” Ducky answered. “He will need surgery for this wound, but now I fear the danger lies in infection, which is already apparent in many of these wounds but most obviously so in his hand.”

“Come on, Jake,” Elanor whispered. “You didn't hold on this long to quit now.”

* * *

“Any word yet?” Abby asked, joining the others at the hospital. McGee was already on his laptop, frowning over the screen, and Gibbs was pacing at the far end of the room. She was almost surprised to see he was still here. Then again, their bad guy got away, so he had nowhere else to be. Not yet. There _would_ be somewhere to go. They would find this guy. No one did this to one of theirs and got away with it.

“He's still in surgery,” Ducky answered. “However, his doctors were quite hopeful.”

“He won't know what to do without his hands,” Ellie whispered. “He's always using them. He doesn't even realize it. A couple years ago, he broke two fingers while we were camping, and he was complaining constantly. He couldn't write, couldn't hold a pen, kept hurting himself by the stupidest things like putting his hands in his pockets...”

Ducky put his hand on her back, and she sighed. Tony pulled her into his arms, giving her a big hug that had everyone staring at him. “It's okay, Bish.”

“You hugged me,” Ellie said. “I don't think that falls under okay, Tony. You're worried. I can tell. Everyone is.”

“Just figured that if anyone was going to give you a hug that would remind you of your brothers and make you feel better, it would be me, not McLaptop over there. He's too busy trying to search CCTV, whereas I've always been told I have very nice arms.”

“You do,” Abby agreed, and McGee looked up with a frown as the others laughed.

Gibbs came over. “We got anything yet?”

“No, boss. CCTV from the area is clear. He wasn't there.”

“Impossible,” Ducky disagreed. “With a wound as severe as Jakob's was, he would have bled out before we arrived if we'd been even a few minutes later. He must have been there when you got on the scene. Had he not been, Jakob would be dead. My apologies, Elanor.”

“No, I.. it's fine. I understand. I thought the same thing.”

“We checked the whole building and now the British authorities have it under lockdown,” McGee said. “He wasn't there, and they are searching the area, even if they are pissed at us for going in without clearing it with them first.”

“Waiting would have cost Malloy his life.”

“I'm not arguing that, Boss.”

Ducky looked at him. “I am afraid, Jethro, that the answer you now require may have to wait until we can speak to Jakob again.”

Gibbs muttered something to himself and walked away. Abby knew he was not one for waiting around in hospitals. She shook her head, wishing she had something she could be doing, but they didn't have anything new to go over, not even from the new crime scene. That was in other people's hands, and she didn't like it, but she wasn't the one who fought for it, either.

“Did you ever hear from Martinez?”

Ellie shook her head. She dug into her pocket, taking out her phone. “No calls. Still, it's been too long. Something's wrong.”

* * *

Ellie pushed the button, waiting impatiently for the call to connect. She started pacing around the room, aware that she was being watched. McGee was still on his computer, but Ducky, Tony, and Abby were all waiting, and they had nothing better to do than watch her as she tried to make this call.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“We just found Jake,” Ellie said, that image burned into her brain and making her sick. “I don't care what time it is.”

“Oh, hell. He's not dead, is he? Bishop—”

“He's in surgery. He... They tortured him, Martinez. He might not make it.”

“Damn.”

“I need you to tell me what you know about the SME assigned to the Moving Finger after I left, and I need it now. If they are behind what happened to Jake, I swear—”

“I can't tell you if he's behind it, but I can tell you something I know you won't want to hear,” Martinez said. “It should be that you no longer have clearance—”

“Screw the clearance,” Ellie snapped. “Someone tried to kill my husband. Someone tortured him and left him for dead, and I don't _care_ about clearance. I want that name. I want to know what they know. I have to know if they're responsible for this.”

Martinez sighed. “I can't tell you that. I can tell you it's possible. The SME is gone. No one has seen him in four days. We're not sure what happened to him.”

“And you didn't think to tell me that? We could have been hunting him here. He could be the one who did this to Jake.”

“That guy? I'm more convinced we'll find he didn't hold out as long as your husband did,” Martinez said. “Some people have what it takes. Jake might have been a lawyer, but he was one stubborn bastard when he wanted to be, as we all know. This analyst was a weasel.”

“Weasel or not, he's missing, you knew that, and you didn't tell me.”

“I was instructed not to pending the internal investigation. You'd have done the same thing in my place.”

Ellie wasn't so sure about that. “Jake could still die. I want that name.”

“I'll send you a file with everything we've got,” Martinez said. “And Bishop? I'm sorry about Jake. He's a good guy, and he didn't deserve this. Even if he left you. Maybe if he cheated, but—”

Ellie hung up, shaking her head as she walked back to the others. “Martinez is sending me a file. It seems the analyst that took over as SME is missing and has been for four days.”

“And no one thought to tell us this?” Tony demanded. “Gibbs is gonna be pissed. Hell, I'm pissed. We should have known. If we'd known when this started, we might have stopped this. The accident, the death of Agent Waters, Ensigns Doyle and Murray—damn it. Now I'm really angry.”

“We'll get him, Tony,” McGee said, sharing a look with Abby. “We just need that file.”

* * *

“Didn't figure on seeing you again, Gibbs.”

He grunted, going closer to the bed. Adams still looked like hell, but she was in a better state than Malloy. She might be getting close to freedom, but Malloy would still be hospitalized for a long time, assuming he survived.

“What do you need?”

“Answers,” Gibbs said. He shook his head. “Found Malloy.”

“Like Waters?” Adams asked, wincing. “Guy was a pain in the ass, but he didn't deserve that.”

“Malloy's not dead. Not yet.”

She snorted. “I was actually talking about Waters. I didn't think much of him when he got assigned to my team. Still didn't, years later. He would never admit it, but he was biased. Malloy knew it. He got to see it first hand. I don't even know what brought it on, though it only got worse when he stuck to his guns about the clearance and refused to talk about his lawyer friend.”

Gibbs nodded. “Malloy wouldn't even discuss things with his wife after she gave up her clearance. Made for one hell of a mess as it turns out, but he's a patriot. Loyal to his agency. Might have kept him alive. Definitely put him through hell.”

“They tortured him, too.” Adams shook her head. “Damn. I don't know what I can tell you. We never saw any signs of this Moving Finger until the bombing. Then it happens, and you call about fake NCIS agents that are interested in them, an NSA lawyer who knows about them but won't admit it, and all hell breaks loose. I still don't understand this.”

“You sure about that?”

“I'm not holding anything back, Gibbs. I owe Malloy my life. I told you that. If he hadn't insisted that he and Waters were the only ones worth taking, I'd be dead now, just like Waters.”

Gibbs looked at the machine next to the bed. “Something doesn't fit. Ducky says Waters was only tortured superficially. I saw what they did to Malloy. He's a mess. Compared to him, Waters got cut shaving.”

“You think Waters was involved?” Adams asked, leaning back against her pillows. “I can't confirm that for you. I never saw anything suspect. I saw some things that said he wasn't the best cop he could be, but he never crossed a line. I would have stopped him if he did.”

“That accident took advance planning.”

“Malloy decided when he was leaving. How could it have been planned?”

“Someone tipped them off.”

“And you think it was Waters.”

Gibbs fixed her with a hard look. “You want me to say it was you? You survived the crash. You were allowed to go to the hospital. You missed out on the torture, and you're still alive. Why wasn't it you and not him?”

“Because I'm a not a traitor. Waters was going to drive Malloy back on his own, but I wanted to talk to him again, so I went along. I knew I had a way in, and I was going to use it. He had a weak spot a mile wide where his wife was concerned, and I was going to push as soon as I had him alone,” Adams shook her head. “I figured he still wouldn't break on the security issues, but he would have said more.”

“That's not a reason.”

“You called me in to keep an eye on Malloy because you trusted me. Now you don't?”

“Malloy got taken on your watch, and none of this makes any sense.”

Adams shrugged. “I don't know what to tell you. I can't prove anything from here. Maybe Waters was Moving Finger. Maybe the fake agents were hired by them. I don't know. I've been here. I can't do a damned thing about the people who tried to kill me, and it pisses me off.”

The fake NCIS agents could have been a ploy to get Malloy into Waters' hands, assuming he was connected to either the Moving Finger or whoever else was behind this. Gibbs had to know if he was involved, and if he was, he was lucky he was dead.

* * *

Holding the hand of someone in a hospital bed was the image everyone had of bedside vigils, even ones that weren't in a hospital. Ellie fidgeted in her chair, wishing she could be holding Jake's hand, but she couldn't. Almost all of his fingers had been broken, and while they'd reset them, she couldn't take his hand and hold it with the pins holding it straight. They'd told her that they'd put a cast on after they'd reduced the infection, and she could barely look at the contraption trying to help Jake heal. She didn't know how to do this.

She wished she knew what to analyze, but she hadn't even started on the SME's file. That she'd given over to McGee and Abby since she should be here.

She just needed something to do while she was here. She needed a distraction, but she also needed to feel like she could help Jake, and she wasn't helping here.

“Any change?” Ducky asked, coming back into the room with two cups of coffee in his hands. “I know it's too soon to ask, but as I was out of the room...”

She looked over at him with a weak smile. “Not yet. I was hoping he'd just wake up and tell me it was his job to worry, not mine, but he hasn't.”

Ducky brought the coffee to her, standing beside her. “You cannot divide those duties, I'm afraid, not in a family. We all worry about each other, and no one is immune, even when they might seem to be on the surface.”

“Like Tony and Gibbs. Tony hides it with the frat boy act, and Gibbs just glowers and looks angry, but underneath all of that, both of them care,” Ellie said. She took the coffee and sipped from it. She should be tired, and she was, but she couldn't rest until Jake woke up again. She wouldn't be able to believe he would still be there when she woke up.

“Exactly.”

She took another sip, trying to find something to do or say. “Do you think that we're still going to get it wrong? If it took something like this to get us back together, isn't that a sign that it won't last? Trauma doesn't build a strong foundation for a relationship. If this is just because I feel guilty for bringing Jake into the Moving Finger mess or because he got abducted—”

“My dear, I doubt very much that is anything close to the truth,” Ducky told her. “Remember that the two of you had a relationship before this, one that convinced both of you that sharing the rest of your lives together was what you wanted. Not for the other's sake, but for your own. You took vows, but I do not think you are together only because of those promises. Despite your problems, a deep affection remains between the two of you, one that has not become lost due to time or changed circumstances. You return to each other not because of the comfort level—indeed, that is quite lost when relationships struggle—but because you still care. From what I have heard, it was not because he stopped loving you that he left. In doing so, he still gave up the job that has been, perhaps, the greatest obstacle between the two of you. There is still hope, Elanor, and still a good chance.”

She forced a smile. “I hope so, but his work is here now and mine isn't, and we can't fix things with oceans in between us.”

“Jakob is in for a long recovery, and he will not have the use of his dominant hand for some time. It may be impossible for him to work. He may well need your full-time support during the days to come. If you are willing to give it, then I do not think you need to worry about oceans but simply concentrate on where this new path takes you.”

She winced. She hadn't forgotten about that, about the loss of Jake's hands, but he would hate that so much, being dependent on her—on anyone. That was probably something else she could blame his grandfather for.

“Would you like to try and rest? I can ask them to bring in a cot so that you do not have to leave his room.”

“I can't sleep. What if... what if he's not here when I wake up? I've already done that once. I don't want to do that again.”

Ducky sighed, looking back at the bed. “You should know that you cannot keep this up for much longer. You have already been without sleep for days.”

“I know, but if anything happened to Jake...”

“He would not want you to risk yourself like this.”

Ellie sighed. “Maybe not, but if our positions were reversed, I know he wouldn't be sleeping, either. It just wouldn't happen. It's not who either of us are.”

* * *

“You got something for me yet?”

Tim sighed. Gibbs wanted answers they didn't have, and that was always true, but this was one of the times when it was worse. That was always true when it came to someone on their team or part of their family. They had to have answers, and Gibbs wasn't the only one who wanted them. The trouble was that they just didn't have them here.

“No, Boss. Even with the name Martinez gave us, we haven't been able to connect him to this or show that he left the country. He could still be in the US. He could be dead. Martinez thinks so, though we don't have confirmation that, either. No body. No credit card activity. No cell phone traffic. This guy is either completely off the grid or he is dead.”

“Damn it,” Gibbs said. “I want to know who took Malloy, and I want to know now. Was it this Moving Finger group or was it someone else?”

“Gibbs,” Abby began, taking this one because there was no way he'd yell at her. “No one has given us anything on the Moving Finger. Well, besides Bishop. We still don't have anything besides what she's told us and the Bakari link, which has gone very cold. He's dropped off the grid as well. Right now, we have nothing.”

“You have to have _something.”_

“Technically, we have something,” Tony said, and Tim looked over at him, shaking his head. Tony was insane. They didn't have anything to give Gibbs, and he couldn't fake it or manufacture it just like that. “We got Jake back. He might not be awake now, but when he is—”

“That could still take days,” Gibbs said. “We need something now. What about Waters? You got anything on him?”

“What do you mean?” Tim asked. “We know he was killed by the men who took Jake, and we were working on finding his killer by finding those men, two of whom are already dead and—”

“Only we never looked into the background of Waters himself,” Abby said, grimacing. “We didn't think we needed to because we assumed his involvement was because of Jake, but what if we were wrong?”

Tim winced. There was going to be hell to pay if they were. “We know he wasn't behind torturing Jake. He's already been dead for days.”

“Doesn't mean he didn't have a role in the Moving Finger,” Tony said. “If they are the people behind the people, they'd have kept his connection a secret. Just like Fight Club.”

Tim rolled his eyes, going to work and hoping that they were wrong about Waters' involvement.

“DiNozzo, you're with me.”

“Sure thing. Where are we going?”

“To find a couple of bad actors.”

“Sounds like fun.”

* * *

Something was buzzing. Alarm clock? No, Ellie preferred to use music to wake up, and Jake had found a station they both hated to use, so it couldn't be an alarm. Still, that was annoying. He wanted to make it stop, but when he went to move his hand, pain flared through his body, and he cried out, unable to cope with it.

“Jake?”

He forced his eyes open, frowning. “Ellie? That... What... I don't...”

“Don't move. You're about to tear your stitches and your bandages,” she said, coming closer to him. “Try and calm down. You're in the hospital. You're safe.”

He swallowed, having trouble thinking because of the pain or maybe because of the drugs and—oh, god. “What... my... hand?”

“Your fingers were all broken. You... don't remember that?”

He shook his head. “I don't... There's so much pain... I can't...”

“I will get your doctor, Jakob. Just remain calm,” Ducky told him, and Jake nodded, regretting it as soon as he did. That hurt, too. “I'll be back shortly, Elanor.”

Jake fumbled with his other hand, needing some sort of connection to Ellie, and she winced when his hand caught hers. He did, too, because those fingers hurt, too, but at least they didn't look like something out of a horror film.

“What happened?”

She bit her lip. “Jake, don't you remember anything? I know you dissociate with pain, but you can't have lost all of it, can you?”

Jake stared at her, still confused. “All of what? I don't... I don't understand.”

“You were abducted. And tortured.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything still hangs on what Jake can remember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suppose I could have made this easy on myself and wrapped things up all tidy right here.
> 
> I'm not good at that, at tidy. Messy is more my style.

* * *

“It was just a job. I don't even know who hired me. They did that all through my agent,” Hines said, and Gibbs wanted to smack him. DiNozzo seemed to feel the same way. This was nothing more than a waste of their time, which they didn't have to waste. The only good thing they had was Malloy at the damned hospital. He should live, and they weren't up against that clock anymore, but until they knew who the hell took him and why, he was still at risk. He might not even be the only one.

“You still haven't given us your agent's name,” DiNozzo reminded him. “You want us gone, then give us a name, and we'll go because there's nothing else you can tell us of use.”

“I resent that. Just because I am not on the cover of every magazine does not mean that I am not an actor with talent and—”

“Cut the crap. If you were a good actor, you'd actually have gotten what you went there for,” Gibbs said. “How were you supposed to get the information to your employer?”

“What information?”

Gibbs glared at him. Hines shrunk back. DiNozzo shook his head. “You went to Malloy to find out about the Moving Finger. How were you supposed to pass along what he told you?”

“I wasn't.”

Gibbs frowned. “What do you mean, you weren't?”

“Exactly what I said.” Hines actually smiled, the idiot. “We weren't given anything to contact anyone with. No phone, no mobile, no email. Nothing. We weren't supposed to tell anyone anything.”

Gibbs started for the door, DiNozzo on his heels. Hines called after them, but Gibbs ignored it. This guy didn't have anything of use, not to them.

“Boss, if they weren't supposed to report back what Jake said—”

“Someone either already knew Malloy wouldn't say anything or they didn't give a damn about the Moving Finger.”

“Unless they were still trying to frame the Moving Finger by misdirect,” DiNozzo said. “The whole point was for them to be unconvincing NCIS agents, forcing Jake to go to the real NCIS for help. Does this mean that Waters was in on it, or are we still missing something?”

“Hell if I know,” Gibbs muttered. “Get in the car.”

* * *

Tony left Gibbs in the hallway pushing McGee for an answer, glad he wasn't on the receiving end of that conversation. He didn't know that they had anything, and after wasting as long as they had on Hines and his actor friend, Gibbs was pissed. Tony was just glad he'd decided to take a break at the hospital. Not only would it be good to know if Jake was going to be okay, but he might have the answer Gibbs wanted.

He knocked on the door, pushing it open. “Hey, Bish. How is he?”

“He was awake for a while earlier, but he's out again now,” Bishop said, brushing back some of her husband's hair, still looking like something the cat dragged in. She shook her head, closing her eyes.

“Though on the bright side, that did permit Elanor to get some rest of her own,” Ducky said, “albeit in an uncomfortable chair which no doubt gave her a crick in the neck.”

“I know how that goes,” Tony agreed. “Not fun. Nor was going to see a couple of bad actors and asking them why they'd impersonated NCIS agents. Gibbs is... Well, I don't think it was a very good idea for anyone to mess with Gibbs' BFF.”

“Seriously, doesn't that title really belong to Fornell?” Bishop asked, running her fingers through her hair. “Jake and Gibbs are not that close.”

“They are still family,” Ducky told her, “if only by virtue of their connection to you.”

Tony nodded. “Don't discount that. He would be very angry if something happened to you. I mean, that was half the reason we were surprised he was still talking to Jake after he left you.”

“He didn't leave—wait, how long was Gibbs talking to Jake? Was it—”

“Not important,” Gibbs said, coming into the room. He stopped, not getting very close to the bed. “He said anything yet?”

Bishop grimaced. “He did, but you're not going to like it.”

“Like what?”

“I'm hoping it's just because he was disoriented and in a lot of pain, but he couldn't seem to remember what happened or how he got hurt. He just stared at me when I told him he'd been tortured. Then he closed his eyes and passed out again.”

Tony winced. Gibbs was going to blow a gasket.

“How the hell can he not know who did this to him?”

“I think you already know that, Jethro,” Ducky said, using a firm but gentle lecture voice to calm Gibbs a little. “Pain can be quite traumatic, and many victims of torture would like nothing more than to forget that it occurred at all. Nevertheless, Jakob's confusion may stem from his injuries themselves or even the pain. He simply was not coherent enough to know what happened. He may have more clarity when he wakes again.”

“Damn it, Duck,” Gibbs said. “We don't have any idea who took him or why. We've got dead naval officers, dead agents, and two wounded, and you're telling me our only witness can't remember anything?”

“We're not sure of that,” Ducky said. “The trauma Jakob suffered is extensive, no doubt about it, but it may well have been pain confusing him when he woke. He was awake for less than a minute, and his mind may have had difficulty grasping where he was and how he got there, leaving no space for any other thought.”

“We need answers.”

“I know. We'll have to see what he can tell us when he wakes up again. Maybe if we can get his pain regulated, he may be able to have an actual conversation, but at this point, unconsciousness must be a blessing for him.”

Bishop winced, and Ducky gave her an apologetic look.

Tony grimaced, wishing he had some kind of distraction to get Gibbs out of here. He didn't have any leads. “Did McGee or Abby find our agent for us? Maybe the agent was supposed to be the contact, pass along the information they were trying to get from Jake.”

Bishop frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“Our actor friends told us that they weren't supposed to contact anyone with what they got about the Moving Finger,” Tony explained. “And if that's true—”

“Then they weren't actually after information about the Moving Finger,” Bishop said. “But then—why do this to Jake?”

“I'm afraid we still won't know until Jakob wakes up.”

* * *

“Jake?” Ellie asked, noticing him start to shift in the bed. She supposed he could be dreaming, having a nightmare, but she didn't think he was. Jake tossed more when he was sleeping. This was more like when he was struggling to wake up after a long night going into an early morning.

“...Ellie...”

She felt Ducky moving next to her, but she didn't look at him, going closer to the bed. “I'm here, Jake. It's okay. I'm here.”

He opened his eyes, frowning as he sought her out. She gave him the most reassuring smile that she could manage. She was still worried. If Jake wasn't able to remember who did this to him, then that person could still come after him. They wouldn't be able to stop him.

“Ellie,” Jake said, swallowing. “I...”

“I am sure it hurts a great deal, but if you can hold on long enough for us to get your doctor, we can get your medication adjusted to counter that,” Ducky told him, and Jake tried to nod. “Hold on, now, Jakob. I'll just be a moment.”

Ellie watched Ducky go before looking back at Jake, hoping he would stay awake until Ducky came back with the doctor, longer than that, even. She knew he'd taken her hand before, but she didn't want to hurt him by doing it. “You scared us, you know.”

Jake grimaced. “Didn't... why...”

She frowned. “We were going to talk, remember? We agreed on that right before the accident. Did you... forget the accident, too?”

Jake shook his head. “Remember... car... Didn't want to... Wanted cab. Agent Adams... insisted. You... called. We... talked... Then a car... No, truck. It was... big truck. Slammed into us. I... hit... door, dropped phone.”

He remembered the accident. That was something. She bit her lip, and he tried for her hand, first with his bad hand, then with the better one.

“Do you remember what happened after the accident?”

Jake forced a nod. “I... I think so. Everything... hurts. Hard to think. Talk.”

“At least one of your ribs was broken, and they were worried that one of the stab wounds had collapsed a lung,” Ellie said, still feeling sick when she thought about that. She had almost lost him in more than one way. 

“I'm Doctor Wallace. I see you're still with us, Jakob.”

Jake glared at the doctor. “Don't... call... me... that.”

The doctor blinked. “Your friend calls you Jakob.”

“Ducky is an exception,” Ellie told the doctor with a small smile. She knew that Ducky's habit was a sign of affection, which was the only reason she hadn't pushed for him to stop. That, and somehow Jake didn't seem to mind, even though she was pretty sure his own grandfather was the reason he hated his full name. “He's about the only one that gets away with calling him Jakob. Please call him Jake.”

“Very well. So, Jake, what can I do for you?”

“Is that... a real question?” Jake asked, frowning. He seemed confused again, like he had the first time he woke. “You... are... the doctor.”

“Yes,” Wallace agreed, “so I suppose you should tell me how you feel.”

“How do you... _think_ I feel?” Jake was frustrated, and Ellie couldn't blame him. What was with this doctor? Her husband had been tortured, and Wallace was acting like Jake was some kind of waste of his time. “Have you... seen my... hand? It... all... hurts.”

“I can do something about your pain level,” the doctor said, though Ellie didn't think that he liked Jake very much, and he had no reason not to other than the correction they'd made about his name. “Anything else I should know about?”

Jake looked at him. “Nauseous.”

“Let's start by increasing this, shall we?” Wallace asked, moving toward the IV. “We'll see if that makes any difference, and if not, we'll get you some anti-nausea medication.”

Jake watched as the doctor adjusted his IV. Then he leaned over the bed, puking all over Wallace, who cursed, stepping back and shouting. Jake fell back against his pillows, closing his eyes. Ellie winced.

The doctor went out of the room, yelling for a nurse.

“Insufferable fellow,” Ducky said, shaking his head. “I should congratulate you on that shot, Jakob. Quite nicely done.”

Jake managed a small smile. Ellie reached over and combed back his hair. “You should rest.”

“Water?”

“Here you go,” Ducky said, filling a glass for him, putting the straw near Jake's mouth. “Drink as much as you like, and then I am afraid I have to agree with Elanor. You should rest.”

* * *

Abby shook her head, frustrated. She wanted to break something. This was Chip all over again. She needed science to give her answers, but science wasn't cooperating. She still had nothing, and she hated having nothing. She had a lab. She had machines. She should have answers. She didn't have any.

“I can't find him, McGee. It's like this guy doesn't exist.”

“You really think so?” McGee asked, and she turned back from the computer, looking at him. “Do you think that the NSA made him up?”

“Why would the NSA do that?” Abby asked, frowning. “You think they made up the Moving Finger, too?”

McGee shook his head. “No. Bishop was the one that found them, and Jake was the one to get the warrant. They wouldn't make that up.”

“Exactly.” Abby folded her arms over her chest. “It doesn't make sense. Why would the NSA lie about him?”

“If he was part of some kind of on-going operation—”

“Ellie didn't recognize the name.”

“But she hasn't worked for the NSA for over a year. She might not know him. He could have started working there after she left. We don't have that part of his personnel record. We barely have anything on him,” McGee said. He shook his head, frustrated. “Maybe Jake would know, but he's still unconscious.”

“So we wait.”

McGee looked over at the door. “You really think Gibbs is going to wait? He would will us to find something if we could.”

Abby shook her head. McGee was right about that. Gibbs wanted an answer, and they didn't have it for him. She had gone over all of her evidence, triple checked what she had and what the local office had gathered. She couldn't give him any more than what she already had, and that was wrong. She always had an answer for Gibbs.

The door opened, and she braced herself. Gibbs looked in between the two of them. “Well?”

McGee flinched. “Um, Boss—”

Gibbs' phone rang, sparing him. McGee breathed out in relief as Gibbs barked into the phone. “What?”

Abby winced. He was bad. Almost losing Kate bad, and that was... bad. She didn't like this. She knew that they all wanted the same thing. They wanted the man who'd hurt Jake. They wanted him to pay. Being angry didn't make that happen, though. She looked at the computer again. If McGee was right, then the name and identity they'd been given wasn't real. She didn't know why he wouldn't be real, but if he wasn't, she might be able to prove it. At least it gave her something to do.

“That's not good enough,” Gibbs said. “Yes, I think you should wake him back up. Bishop—Damn it.”

Abby nudged McGee. He shook his head. He wasn't going to ask, but she was. She was sure that Bishop had hung up on him. “Gibbs? Is Jake okay?”

“He woke up.”

“So he's awake now?” McGee asked. “Does that mean—”

“Earlier he didn't remember anything. Now Bishop says he remembers the accident, but she let him go back to sleep.”

“Boss, he was tortured. He'd still recovering.”

“He needs to tell us who did this.”

Abby looked at McGee and back at Gibbs. “Maybe all he needs to do is tell us if the name the NSA gave us was real.”

* * *

“Malloy.”

Jake almost groaned at the sound of that voice. He knew it, and it was almost like a nightmare. He shouldn't say that. He had other nightmares, things from his past, from Ellie's, and those were worse. Much worse.

“I know you can hear me.”

Jake nodded. Of course Gibbs knew. He was Gibbs. It didn't surprise Jake for a second. He forced his eyes open, turning toward the sound of the other man's voice. “They do have me... heavily medicated.”

“Not an excuse.”

“I don't believe you... allow any... excuses,” Jake managed to say. He was still fighting the drugs and his injuries to get words out, and it wasn't easy. “Where... is... Ellie?”

“Getting food with Ducky.”

Jake tried to put a hand to his head, but the pins reminded him that they were there, sending pain through his entire body. He hissed, wishing his dose was higher. “Doesn't... make sense... Ellie wouldn't leave.”

Gibbs shrugged. “I need answers.”

“And you... do whatever it takes... to get them,” Jake said. He swallowed, hoping to keep the nausea at bay this time. “What is it... you want? I'm tired. Everything hurts. I need—”

“You need to give me the bastard who did this. Now,” Gibbs said, coming close to the bed. “I want a name.”

Jake shook his head. “I can't.”

“Can't?” Gibbs demanded, leaning over the bed. “Don't give me can't. Did he wear a mask the entire time? No. Then you saw his face. You know who he was. Why the hell would you protect him? He did this to you. Look at your damn hand.”

“I am aware... of what... he did,” Jake said. “I don't... have a name. I don't know who he was. I... I have... pieces. I remember the accident. I remember being taken from the car. Then... nothing.”

“Nothing,” Gibbs repeated, angry. Jake felt more like a suspect than a victim, only he got to do this in pain, with nowhere to go, no lawyer to step in and make Gibbs back off, no agents to interrupt with an alternate of questioning. “You have to know something. It didn't just all disappear. You were tortured for days. That doesn't just go away.”

“It does if you're lucky,” Jake said, letting out a breath. “I'm not, though.”


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gibbs continues to push for answers. Jake and Ellie reconnect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love those moments when a random idea comes to me and makes things work. And a bit of fluff alongside some headcanon.

* * *

Getting Bishop out of the room had been easier than Gibbs expected. He'd figured on her going into protective mode, hovering and refusing to let Malloy out of her sight, as she had been since she found her husband, but even after she'd ignored his order to wake Malloy back up and get answers from him, she had been willing to leave. Maybe because she thought Ducky was going to stay in the room. Maybe not.

It didn't matter. It was done.

Getting information from Malloy, though, that was harder than expected. Gibbs didn't know what the hell was making him hold back. Why wouldn't he want to get the bastard who did that to him? The only time a victim protected their attacker was when they knew them, had some warped sense of obligation—usually family or friendship, a distorted sense of love—to them.

Malloy shouldn't have anything like that for the man who'd tortured him. What the hell was going on here?

“Can't?” Gibbs leaned over the bed, getting into Malloy's face. He needed to make the man understand what he was doing. “Don't give me can't. Did he wear a mask the entire time? No. Then you saw his face. You know who he was. Why the hell would you protect him? He did this to you. Look at your damn hand.”

Malloy didn't look away from Gibbs. “I am aware... of what... he did. I don't... have a name. I don't know who he was. I... I have... pieces. I remember the accident. I remember being taken from the car. Then... nothing.”

“Nothing,” Gibbs repeated, wanting to shake Malloy or just the bed, get some sense into him. Something had to get through. Malloy had the answers he needed, and he wanted them. Now. “You have to know something. It didn't just all disappear. You were tortured for days. That doesn't just go away.”

“It does if you're lucky,” Malloy muttered. “I'm not, though.”

Gibbs frowned. He was about to shake the bed anyway. Did Malloy not realize what he was saying? He had made it sound like he didn't remember and wouldn't tell anyone about the man who'd hurt him. “Then you know who did this.”

Malloy shook his head. “Not his name. Not why. I told you—it's bits and pieces.”

“Damn it, Malloy,” Gibbs began, but his phone interrupted him, keeping him from finishing his tirade. He yanked it out of his pocket and answered it. “What?”

“Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs,” Abby said, sounding happy, and he frowned. “I've got something.”

“When I left, you had nothing.”

“I know. I didn't. Not then. That was before I got hold of Jake's clothes from the hospital—you can thank Tony for that later—and was able to process them,” Abby said. He could picture her bouncing with excitement. “I was just looking for trace evidence, and I figured most of it would be from where Jake was held which we already knew, but Gibbs—I have transfer DNA. The guy that tortured Jake, he left his mark all over him. In more than one way. Some very, very sick ways, but the point is—he gave us DNA. He might not have thought he was leaving anything behind, but he did. He is all over Jake's clothes—well, what's left of them.”

“You have a match?”

“Not yet. I'm still running tests, but if Jake can give you someone to test it against, I might be able to speed it up.”

Gibbs grunted. “Malloy doesn't have a name.”

“Did you ask him about the SME?”

“Let me know when you have a match,” Gibbs ordered, hanging up. He turned back to Malloy. The other man's eyes were closed, but he wasn't asleep. His face showed too much pain for that. “Meds wearing off?”

Malloy snorted. “You know they... only ever dull the pain.”

Gibbs nodded. His phone beeped, and he opened it, grimacing. He turned it over to Malloy. “You know him?”

“No. Who is he?”

“George Kent. The SME for the Moving Finger.”

“No,” Malloy said, his voice firmer than it had been all conversation. “That is not the SME for the Moving Finger.”

“It was reassigned after your wife left—”

“I know, but that isn't him,” Malloy insisted. “I met the man, and that picture... Not him. Not his name, either. Was... Damn it, I can't think—”

“You've got a lot of holes. Too many.”

“Not about this. Torture is one thing. Meeting him... was another. No, I don't.... remember his name, but I remember... him. I didn't... even want to give him... time of day. He pushed... I fed him excuses. I treated him... like he didn't have clearance... pretended I didn't know... specifics when I did. It's not... something I'm proud of, but I know... I know what I did. I know who it was... that picture is not the man I spoke to.”

Gibbs eyed him, not liking this. “You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Malloy sighed. “Told you... Not proud.”

“Of what? Giving some stranger the runaround? Why the hell would that matter?”

“Because it wasn't about him,” Malloy said, frustrated. “Was about... us. About me and Ellie and the same stupid things... Clearance was just starting to be an issue. He... pointed it out again. Moving Finger was hers. She was gone. It... hurt. And pissed me off.”

“Thought you weren't opposed to her changing jobs.”

“If you think I was ever happy about her... involvement with Parsa, you're an idiot,” Malloy muttered. “I hated every second of that. Was... a nightmare. The way she obsessed over it... I was so sure I was going to lose her... To the guilt. The hunt. Him.”

“You said you didn't think she'd betrayed you.”

Malloy studied his broken hand. “He was just as obsessed with her as she was with him. No, more. He... he told me he would... either convert her or kill her.”

“He told you?”

“You think Ellie was the only one he left 'gifts' for?” Malloy asked, almost laughing. “Believe me, Gibbs... he liked telling me... how I couldn't compete with him... how useless I was... how little she actually cared for me...”

“Jake,” Bishop said, stopped in the doorway. “You... you never said anything to me.”

Malloy kept his head down. “I wasn't allowed to tell you anything about Parsa. You were pulled. I was... sanctioned.”

She shook her head. “I... It wasn't like that, Jake. He was lying. You matter to me. You have always mattered. And I know I wasn't good at showing it when I _did_ get obsessed, but you were always the one that brought me back. I need you. You were never useless, not to me. You're my... touchstone. You ground me, keep me from going too far, and you listen, let me bounce theories off you, poke holes in the worst of them and push for more even on the good ones, always making them better.”

Gibbs shook his head, walking away and leaving them alone. He had a feeling about where that was headed, and he didn't need to see it.

* * *

“McGee,” Tim said, answering his phone. They were back at the waiting game part of their job, and it was the worst. He shouldn't say that—they found people who had been murdered all the time, victims of horrible crimes—but he could deal with seeing them. He had a harder time with the waiting.

“Malloy says your SME was not the SME for the Moving Finger. I want to know who the hell he really is,” Gibbs barked into the phone, making McGee frown.

“Wait, so we're back to thinking this Kent guy isn't real?” Tim asked. “Is that even possible? I mean—why would the NSA do that? Why would they lie about it? Even if we believed they were watching Jake and monitoring him to make sure he didn't leak any intel, this is well beyond extreme. People are dead.”

“Don't know,” Gibbs said. “Just know I want answers.”

And someone to make pay for all of this, Tim thought. He knew that Gibbs needed to see someone behind bars or dead for this, for the bombing and the murders, for Jake being tortured. He wanted a name, and Tim wished they had it. He was hoping that Jake would give it to them so they'd all get some peace, but now it sounded like that wasn't ever going to happen.

What Jake had told Gibbs had only made it worse.

At least they had DNA on Jake's clothes. If they ever found someone to match it to, they'd have their man, and that was going to have to be enough, right?

“We're working on it, boss. Abby's got the DNA tests running, searching for matches, and we're still hunting for any sign we can get of this Kent guy. We might... get someone to do a composite so we know what the real SME looked like. He might be easier to find. And... did Bishop's NSA friend lie to us or was she being lied to? Do we know?”

“Not yet. But we're gonna find out.”

* * *

“I mean that,” Ellie said, only stopping when she was right next to the bed, her hand going out to touch the part of Jake's face that wasn't bruised, not wanting to hurt him but needing to have that connection. “All of it. I know I wasn't always good at showing it, especially not when I got wrapped up in some theory and couldn't let it go. You always helped me find my way back out of those dark places I would go.”

“Only now you have... six other people... who do that for you,” Jake said, shaking his head before she could protest. “No, Ellie. NCIS has given you... something the NSA never did. They let you work solo.... Now you're a part of a team. Team... pulls you back. Keeps you focused.”

“That doesn't mean there's no place for you in my life.”

He swallowed. “Felt like it. More than once. Even before... I left, it was like... already lost you.”

“No,” she insisted, wincing as she heard his words. She had never wanted him to feel that. “You are my husband. Not because of a piece of paper or a ring, though we have those, too. Those are the outward symbols, but what we felt—what we still feel—that binds us together. That doesn't just shut off. We both know that. If it was that simple, as soon as we started having problems, we would have walked away. Neither of us can. We fought hard for our marriage. Maybe in the wrong way, but we still wanted it. We want each other.”

Jake closed his eyes. “It was never perfect.”

“No, but it was good,” she said, and he nodded. She thought he was about ready to pass out again. “I'm sorry.”

“What?”

“That we never talked about Parsa before, that we buried it. This—we—I wish you'd been able to tell me. And I know it wasn't just because of the NSA. You were angry, and you had a right to be, and you wouldn't have held that back if you thought I'd listen to you, but Parsa almost broke us. More than once. I wouldn't have listened, and you knew it. I'm sorry. I would have wanted to use what he was doing to catch him.”

“Catching him... might have been worth it.”

She shook her head. “It would have cost us everything. Just like this almost did. We have to find a way to talk again, really talk.”

Jake nodded. “The NSA... shouldn't be a problem now.”

“Except they still are,” she said, and he frowned. “All of this happened because of the work we did there. I found a threat in the Moving Finger, we created that theory, and you got us surveillance. And it still looks like that's why someone went after you.”

“Why me and not you?”

She grimaced. “I'm not sure. It could be argued that it was because you stayed with the NSA and I didn't, but I was the SME, the one who found the threat. You only put the paperwork through, like you did hundreds of other times and no one did anything about.”

“Not good enough... reason. Could have gone after the SME.”

“Which they apparently did. He's been missing for four days.”

“Gibbs showed me a picture. That wasn't him.”

Ellie stared at Jake, her mind racing. “What do you mean, it wasn't him? How could it not be him? Maybe you didn't know him that well—”

“He came for information,” Jake said. “Wasn't the one in the photo.”

Ellie turned, starting to pace. “That can't be right. If it's right, then Martinez lied to me. She gave us false intel. I know that neither of us has clearance anymore, but she knows you were tortured. How could she do that? You could have died, and the NSA is playing with, hiding behind national security when you're the one being hurt.”

Jake tried to shift positions, groaning, and she winced as she went back to the bed. “You know I can adjust that for you or even help you sit up, though you have to be careful with your ribs—”

“Need to call her. Now.”

Ellie didn't argue. She wanted answers as much as he did, and she knew he was tired and should be resting. They shouldn't delay. If they did, they'd lose evidence and give the NSA more time to cover its tracks—if that was even what was happening here. She set the phone on the table, making the call and putting it on speaker.

“Again? Bishop, learn time difference already.”

“I'm not going to bother when you're feeding me bad intel,” Ellie said, shaking her head. “Why did you do it, Martinez? Why lie? We were friends.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. I gave you the files on the SME. You know that I shouldn't have. You don't have clearance and—”

“Stop hiding behind clearance,” Jake said, wincing after he finished his speech, a slight hiss in the last words. He was fighting a lot of pain now. “That was not the SME.”

“Nice to hear your voice, Malloy. Glad you're not dead.”

“Don't believe you,” Jake said, leaning back against his pillows. “Tell us the truth.”

“I did.”

Ellie shook her head. “Martinez, Jake met the SME when he was still at the NSA. They're not the same man. Either someone else got assigned or someone's lying, and there is too much that doesn't add up about this whole thing—I don't think I believe it was just a reassignment.”

“I don't,” Jake said, closing his eyes again and breathing out, trying to control his pain.

Martinez swore. “Look, I don't know anything about personnel changes. Don't know how that could have happened and been missed. I gave you what I had, what I knew. That's not a lie. I'll spare you an impersonation—what I gave you was the truth as far as I knew it. If that man isn't the SME, then someone else lied. Damned if I know who.”

“There's more, though, isn't there?” Ellie asked, wishing she could do more to help Jake with the pain. “A lot more than you said.”

Martinez hesitated, then blew out a breath and spoke. “We started getting chatter about the Moving Finger. It was one of those things that had everyone nervous, and not long after it started, Malloy put in his notice. With this thing being the brain child of you two and some suspicion falling on you in the past, the alert level skyrocketed.”

“Suspicion,” Ellie repeated, then winced. There it was, again. “Parsa.”

“Yep,” Martinez agreed. “You're lucky you're married to a lawyer. A good one.”

Ellie looked over at Jake. He shook his head. “I was out of the loop... almost the entire time... after I gave notice. I didn't know... about threat levels. Was... biding time.”

She let that go, even if she knew she should pursue it. He couldn't deflect that bit about Parsa forever. “What happened when Bakari was linked to that bombing? Were those fake NCIS agents hired by the NSA as a test for Jake?”

“No. Not to my knowledge.”

Ellie started to pace again, needing to think. “So we have a missing SME who was not the SME, we have a bombing, fake NCIS agents... None of this makes any sense, except that it keeps pointing back to the Moving Finger.”

“He wasn't,” Jake said, and Ellie looked over at him. “Man who did this—he kept asking about them. Wasn't one of them.”

“You're sure about that?” Martinez asked. “That could have been some kind of ploy—”

“Bastard broke all the fingers in my hand. I'm sure,” Jake snapped. “Ellie, I think... need get jerk doctor.”

She nodded, though she'd rather not deal with him again. “Wait. We said that the Moving Finger was about moving people. Placing them. An employment agency of sorts.”

Jake frowned. “You think... they replaced the SME... after he passed background?”

“Maybe,” Ellie said. She rubbed her head as she turned, circling around Jake's bed. “There's something else, though, a piece that I—”

“They weren't looking for the Moving Finger.”

Martinez swore. “Okay, that made no sense, Malloy. I think you need some sleep or something because you just said they were asking about them.”

“No, Jake's right,” Ellie said, smiling at him as she understood. “They're not after the whole Moving Finger—”

“One person. Shuffled piece,” Jake said. “Moving Finger—”

“Collateral damage. They wanted information on how the group operated, where they might have put him, how they'd have gotten him there, even how they might contact him now,” Ellie finished. “Which means—”

“Not law enforcement. No clearance.”

“He couldn't access what the NSA had, but he still knew enough to go after you,” Ellie said. “The trick with McGee's computer—they wanted you to go to England.”

“Isolated,” Jake agreed. “Still—the other deaths—”

“The bombing didn't happen until you were already in country, so they'd have you as a source through the official investigation, but they hired fake agents to get information first. Only they weren't supposed to report back what they got—”

“I wasn't supposed to tell them,” Jake said. “Whoever hired them already knew that.”

“Which makes it seem more like a member of law enforcement who had dealt with you in the past, but if it was—”

“They'd just have gone to the NSA.”

Ellie sighed. “We're going in circles here. There's something we're missing.”

“I'll tell you what I wasn't missing,” Martinez said. “The way you two do that. It's freaky. Like you have a telepathic link to what the other is thinking that's more than just years of marriage. You two did that back when you first met. Was creepy then. Still creepy now.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. She'd always liked her connection to Jake, loving his ability to follow some of her weirder leaps of logic even if he swore up and down that he wasn't an analyst and he wasn't any good at it. “Goodbye, Martinez.”

She ended the call, looking at Jake again. He met her eyes, and she grimaced, feeling sick.

“You don't really think Charlie would do that to you, do you?”


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake and Ellie give the team a suspect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep having this conversation with myself about not ending this fast enough. Most of the time, I do. I just push for an ending. And I kind of have one, but I don't. It's frustrating.
> 
> Especially with that sense of lost momentum and the idea that I must be wasting my time on a pairing that's been ruined by canon and was not very fleshed out to begin with and why am I doing this again?
> 
> *shrugs* Apparently, I like to torture myself.

* * *

“Jethro, I wonder if I might have a word with you.”

Gibbs looked over at Ducky with a frown. He'd intended to go back to Malloy's room and find out what they knew about Martinez and why she'd lied to them, and that shouldn't wait, not when an NSA agent was missing, people were dead, and Malloy was still at risk.

“What do you need, Duck?”

“It is not my needs that concern me,” Ducky told him, holding out a cup of coffee. “It is that of you and the rest of your team. I do believe that only Jakob has had any rest in the past few days, and that cannot continue.”

“We need answers.”

“Indeed we do, but even in the past, we have all taken time to rest. This time, we have only pushed for Elanor to do so—understandably, as she has been the one most obviously in need of it, due to the added stress of her situation. Yet you, Timothy, Anthony, and even Abigail have not taken any time for yourselves. They have been so preoccupied with finding these answers that they have not even visited Jakob since he woke.”

Gibbs grunted. “Some things are more important.”

“You cannot run yourself or your team ragged. Why is it you are pushing so hard? It was different when Jakob was in the hands of his tormentor, but he is free now. He has begun a long process of healing,” Ducky said. “I realize that we are in another country, but that cannot be the only reason why you want us to rush.”

“He got away, Ducky.”

“They often do at first, but that never lasts. Remember that you found Ari. Parsa. Sergei. Many others. This is no different. You can find him after you and the others have taken some time. This is all the more important in Jakob's case,” Ducky went on. “He is still recovering and needs time to do so. You badgering him will only acerbate his trauma.”

“Malloy is stronger than you think.”

“In many ways, I suspect, but there are limits. Everyone has them,” Ducky said. “Please remember that.”

“Haven't forgotten,” Gibbs told him, heading back into Malloy's room. Bishop looked up from her husband's bed. “You talk to Martinez yet?”

She nodded. “We did, and we think we have something for you.”

“Out with it.”

She shook her head. “Jake's exhausted, and we'd both rather only have to go over it once. Let him rest until the others get here, and we can explain it then.”

Gibbs grunted. He didn't like waiting, but he met Ducky's look and nodded. Malloy would get his nap, but as soon as the others were here, he expected some answers.

* * *

“Oh, Jake,” Abby said as she got close to the bed. She hadn't seen everything before, but then Jake had more bandages then, she swore he did. Now she saw so much more than last time, and it was terrible. She supposed it was partially because she'd done an analysis on Jake's clothes and seen how much blood there was, how badly torn they were. She winced, turning to Bishop. “He looks awful. How could they do this to him?”

Bishop shook her head. “I don't know.”

“Take heart, Abigail,” Ducky told her. “Though Jakob's wounds are extensive, he has already begun his recovery. Despite the trauma and our initial fear of memory loss, he has displayed a remarkable amount coherence under the circumstances. I believe he is doing quite well, all things considered.”

“He is just sleeping,” Ellie said. “He was tired and in a lot of pain, and he fought it, but he couldn't stay awake any longer.”

Abby nodded. She turned back to Gibbs. “We are going to get this guy. I have the DNA. We just need a name.”

Gibbs pointed to Bishop. “She's got it.”

“You do?” McGee asked, frowning. “I thought Jake said he didn't know the man that tortured him. Now he does? Who was he?”

Bishop shook her head. “It's not the name you're thinking of. Jake and I came up with a theory while we were talking to Martinez. I don't like it, but I'm afraid it makes sense.”

“You planning on sharing this theory with the rest of the class?” Tony asked, stifling a yawn.

Bishop grimaced. “I was hoping to let Jake rest a while longer—”

“Am awake,” Jake muttered, shifting his position and grimacing in pain. “You all... talk loud.”

“Sorry,” Abby told him. “I would so hug you if you weren't all battered and kind of broken, but I am so glad you're okay. And if you have a suspect for us, I can put him away for life. So, lay it on us. Who do we get to arrest?”

“It's going to be hard to find him,” Ellie said, and Jake nodded.

“Hard is what we do,” Tony reminded her. “We just need a name. And maybe a nap.”

“Can sleep when we're done,” Gibbs said. “Name, Malloy. Now.”

“Charlie Banks.”

The room got quiet, and Abby saw a lot of frowns. She turned to McGee, who just had the same thought she did. “He died in the bombing.”

“Can't have a much better alibi than dead,” Gibbs said. “Why him?”

“But he's dead,” Tony said. “They matched his DNA to what was left of a body in that bombing. Though... forensics have been wrong before. They almost convicted me once. Was bad. Didn't like it. Why do we think the forensics are lying?”

“Jake and I talked to Martinez,” Bishop began. “She told us that not long before Jake left the NSA, they started picking up chatter about the Moving Finger. Then he left, the bombing happened, and fake NCIS agents showed up asking about the group.”

“You said it looked like someone was trying to frame the Moving Finger.”

Jake shook his head. “Not frame. Use. They wanted... one person.”

“A person the Moving Finger had recruited and moved into a more militant terrorist group,” Bishop said. “Someone who did take an action that killed people or injured them.”

Tony looked skeptical. “They just wanted one guy.”

“Someone like Parsa or Sergei,” Bishop agreed. “Only not the head of their own organization, but still responsible for the death of someone Charlie cared about.”

“Why Charlie?”

“Because he wasn't law enforcement,” Jake answered, grimacing as he fought the pain. “Because he didn't have... couldn't get clearance. Still... he knew... enough about what I did... for the NSA to know... to target me.”

“How?” McGee asked. “Even we don't know all you did for the NSA, and we've worked with you before. Bishop's even your wife, and she didn't know everything you knew.”

Jake looked at his hands. “When Elllie... was pulled... off Parsa, I... consulted Charlie... about defending her... if the investigation... went that far. Knowing Matthews, I thought... it would. I wouldn't... give Charlie classified intel, and he joked about me... tying his hands. He knew enough... to know I would have known... about the Moving Finger. He knew... Ellie was an analyst. Knew she'd gotten me to get warrants based on her assessments.”

“You're not actually saying this was your fault, are you?” Tony asked, shaking his head. “Because that is just screwed up. And I thought you said this Charlie was a good guy. You liked him.”

“I trusted him,” Jake said, “with Ellie's life.”

Bishop reached over and touched his cheek, sighing. “You said yourself that if Charlie was behind this, and we think he is, he must have been altered by whatever tragedy brought him to the Moving Finger in the first place.”

“You're assuming a lot,” McGee said. “You don't know that there was a traumatic event. And the local office matched his DNA to the bombing. He's dead.”

“This... I did not miss,” Jake said.

“It was always easier for me to accept that others didn't believe my theories, but then I had you, and even when you didn't, you would tell me to convince you,” Ellie said, shrugging.

“Convince us,” Gibbs told her. “What makes you so sure he found a way to fake his death?”

“Because,” Jake said, sounding sick. “I convinced Charlie... to take Ellie's case... using the Moving Finger as an example. Not by name, no. Wasn't that... stupid. I was stressing... her ability to see what others didn't, come up with ideas... that others laughed at but were... right, sometimes scarily so. I mentioned the theory about... them being an employment agency of sorts. Charlie laughed.”

“I thought you didn't leak classified information.”

“I didn't,” Jake said, offended. “There are lines. I've always operated within them. They... can be thin sometimes. We spoke in hypotheticals... with the understanding that if the investigation progressed, Charlie would be bound by attorney-client privilege.”

“He was only representing Bishop,” McGee said. “That doesn't extend to you.”

Jake snorted. “McGee, do you really think I believed... Ellie was the only one being investigated? If I did, I could have defended her myself... despite my lack of experience in that... aspect of law. I got someone else... because I knew... that representing myself... was a bad idea.”

Ellie grimaced. “I was the one who didn't report the gifts Parsa left for me. I was the one who covered them up. You had nothing to do with that.”

“Yeah, Bish, but you've worked with us long enough to know that no one would have believed that,” Tony said. “We don't. We would have pursued that as a part of our investigation. It only makes sense. This whole 'he faked his own death' to go after a terrorist doesn't, but I like it as a movie plot. Maybe we could get that guy from that one show to play Jake—”

“Enough,” Gibbs said. “You really think this is Banks?”

Bishop and Jake both nodded. Bishop was the one to explain. “Charlie has worked in so many different fields that he could have made all the connections he needs to have pulled it off. He could have found a hacker to get into McGee's computer, paid off the fake NCIS agents and the one who killed Murray—he had plenty of money—and the real NCIS agents were convinced that he had arranged for Jake to get the position that brought him to England. Maybe right now we can't prove Charlie didn't fake his death, but we haven't even started to look.”

“I'll look,” Abby said. “I just need the evidence from bombing.”

“Abby, if Banks faked his death, he would have had to have changed the DNA that was used to check his identity,” McGee said. “Your test will just confirm what the original investigators found. We'd have to have a new source.”

Gibbs looked at them. “So get with his family, check a relative.”

“Gonna be a problem there,” Tony said. “Banks had no family. It was in the report. Parents were dead, he never married, no one claimed his belongings or his body.”

“Charlie has a son,” Jake said, getting everyone's attention. “An indiscretion in college. It wouldn't be on record—he gave his girlfriend money for an abortion. She chose to keep it instead, didn't tell him.”

“But you know,” Gibbs prompted.

“Ran into her years later... Recognized Charlie in the boy... soon as I saw him.”

“And you never told him he had a kid?” McGee asked, frowning. “He was your friend, wasn't he? I mean, you suspect him now, but before he was a friend.”

“Or is this kid the reason Charlie snapped and went after Jake?” Tony asked. “We should find the kid. And his mother.”

“Do it,” Gibbs said. He faced Jake. “You got anything else?”

“No.”

* * *

“Do we really believe this?” McGee asked, walking with Tony and Abby toward the hospital exit. Jake had given them the name of the woman and her son, and he knew he could look them up right now, but he was still struggling with the idea of this being their best lead. “Or are we just humoring Jake because he was tortured?”

Abby shook her head. “Where is your faith, McGee?”

“Faith? Our main suspect is a dead man, and he's not even the one that tortured Jake. We don't know who he is, but we're going to chase down dead man to try and prove he's alive because it fits a theory that we have no evidence of,” Tim said, frowning. “You might believe in ghosts, but we can't arrest or prosecute a ghost.”

“Maybe not, but we've always investigated every possibility,” Tony said. “Besides, there's rules three, eight, and thirty-nine to consider.”

“And Jake is probably thinking of rule thirty-six,” Abby said. “No, forty. Definitely forty. Maybe Charlie didn't just do it because Jake had information on the Moving Finger. Maybe he saw Jake not telling him about his son as a betrayal.”

“He was pretty quiet about why he didn't tell Charlie about the kid.”

Tim looked at Tony. “Would you have told your best friend in college he had a kid he didn't know about?”

“I don't talk to my best friend in college anymore,” Tony said. He shrugged. “Maybe Jake didn't, either. He said he went to the guy for legal advice. That doesn't make them friends. Are you friends with any lawyers?”

“Besides Jake?” Abby asked. She shook her head. “I've worked with lots of them from JAG, slept with a few, too, but friends? Not sure I'd go that far.”

“You slept with lawyers?”

Tony looked at him. “You haven't?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “I'm not discussing that with you. Let's just get the information on Charlie's son and his mom. Sooner we find them, the sooner we end this wild goose chase.”

“In that case, McGrumpy, here you go,” Tony said, holding out his phone. “One newspaper article on Samantha Turner and her son. She was killed in a terrorist attack two months ago that left her son in a coma. Even if he comes out of it, they don't expect him to walk again. That motive enough for you? Because it's definitely motive enough for me.”

“Uh...” Tim frowned at the article. “Did she really name her son Jacob?”

“Told you, McGee. Motive.”

* * *

“You want to talk about it?”

Jake shook his head. “Not particularly.”

Ellie bit her lip, wondering if they would ever have talked about half of this if it hadn't been dragged out into the open by his abduction. Maybe they wouldn't have, not ever, and it would just have deteriorated between them to where they had nothing left at all.

“He was your friend.”

“No. We were never really friends,” Jake disagreed. “Study buddies, friendly rivals, maybe, but not friends. I... lost all respect for him when... he asked me to give Sammy the money. Well... not before I lost all respect... for myself. She gave me this look, Ellie... I never forgot it. She couldn't believe I'd stooped that low. Neither could I. I... She asked me if I knew... why he'd sent the money. I told her... I hadn't asked. And when she told me... I just...”

“Jake—”

“My grandfather told me all my life... she should have just gotten rid of me,” Jake said. “And there I was being... a part of that. I felt sick. I told her to do... what she felt was right. I still don't know why my mother... chose to keep me. I think... I actually told Sammy that—and I don't tell anyone that.”

“I know,” Ellie agreed. “It took me years to pry that out of you.”

“Ten months and tequila,” Jake corrected. “I still don't remember most of that night.”

She smiled. She did, but she figured he'd hate himself if he knew, so she'd never told him. “You can be a very sweet drunk.”

“She named him after me.”

“What?”

Jake nodded. “I thought someone was calling... my name that day... when we met up again. She came... running up after him. I just... stared. He looked... like Charlie. Only she called him Jacob. And I never told him.”

“I don't know that he would have wanted to know,” Ellie said. “He wanted her to have an abortion, not a kid.”

“But if he did this... because I didn't tell him...”

Ellie winced. “No. That is not worth this. Jake, he had you tortured. You not telling him—no, because even if he said that you kept him from knowing his son, it wasn't just you. She made that choice, and so did he. He obviously never spoke to her after he paid her off, and that was his decision, not yours.”

“If something happened to his son—”

“It's still not your fault.”

“I screwed up.”

“So did I,” Ellie said. “We both have, and not just with each other. Just... We have to stop keeping things from each other. No matter what.”

Jake nodded, reaching for her hand. “I... I am not going back to the NSA.”

“I didn't think you were.”

“I actually wanted this job,” he said, and she swallowed, not sure she was ready to hear what he was about to say. “I don't want to go back to DC.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abby and McGee look for proof of Jake's suspicion while he and Ellie deal with some of the emotional fallout of what happened to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that this story could get very, very long if I tried to deal with all of the issues I've raised in this plot (which I didn't plan on many of them or understand how complex some of them would be) but fortunately I think I can resolve the main part and leave the rest of the fallout to people's imaginations or maybe a later piece.

* * *

“You know we can't just waltz in and get the DNA off Turner, right?” McGee asked, looking up from his computer. “He's a minor. In a hospital back in the states. We're in London. We don't have access to him, and I very much doubt that any of his surviving family would give it to us.”

“Quit being a spoilsport, McGooberino,” Tony said, shaking his head. They had dozens of ways around official permission for DNA—trash was a big one, not that he liked going through anyone's trash, but that didn't make it any less good for getting DNA when someone said no. As long as they threw away something they touched, it was fair game.

“I'm not. I'm pointing out the truth, one we all know.”

“And we also know that Jacob Turner's DNA is actually already on file,” Abby said, making McGee frown at her. She grimaced. “Yeah, so... Jacob Turner wasn't the only child hurt in that terrorist attack. They needed DNA to confirm that he wasn't one of the bodies.”

McGee flinched. “Abby, that's terrible.”

“It is, but it's also good for us because his DNA is on record. That means that we can use it to test against what we have for Banks.”

“Assuming Jake is right about Banks being Turner's father.”

Tony looked over at him with a frown. “You saying you don't believe Jake?”

“Why would he lie?” Abby asked, hands halted over the keyboard. “We like Jake. We trust Jake. Jake was just abducted and tortured and has no reason to lie. Right, Tony?”

“Gotta say, I'm having a hard time seeing it,” Tony admitted. “His theory may seem pretty damn crazy, and yeah, the kid's DNA contradicting what they found at the bomb site is the only way of proving it—”

“Exactly. Haven't you ever heard of Occam's razor? The simplest answer is the right one.”

“Except that we know better,” Abby said, shaking her head. “You saw Gibbs. Gibbs believes Jake. Are you actually going to take sides against Gibbs' gut? And Bishop's husband?”

“Not a smart play,” Tony said, leaning against the wall. “And since we can't find the guy who tortured Jake, this is our best lead. Gibbs won't be happy until we run it down. I, for one, would like to get some sleep this century, so let's just eliminate the possibility, okay?”

McGee grimaced. “You know it's not like that. I'm not doing this to be difficult or because I'm some kind of jerk. I seem to be the only one questioning this at all, and I shouldn't be. You said it yourself, Tony. It's a crazy theory.”

“Yeah, but there's some line—was it in a movie? I think it was—about eliminating the impossible and whatever remains being the truth. Do it, McWatson. Eliminate the impossible.”

* * *

“Jake, what are you saying? You can't—our life is there.”

Jake shook his head. “No, your life is there. Mine isn't anymore.”

Ellie felt like she'd been shot in the vest again, air forced out of her lungs and her chest aching. She grabbed the bed rail and swallowed, needing support to stay on her feet. Light-headed, she closed her eyes, waiting for it to pass. “Jake...”

“You said... taking the job at NCIS... was something you had to do... for you. You needed... to know if you could,” Jake reminded her. “I left... the NSA. And I took this job. Charlie may have... arranged it. That just... makes it all the more important... to prove that I can do it.”

She reached behind her, dragging the chair close to his bed. “I... I guess I can see that, but I thought we—Jake, we couldn't fix things when we were in the same country. We aren't going to fix anything if we aren't even on the same continent, with oceans between us...”

He lowered his head. “I know. I just... If we... I don't want fixing us to be about... this. About what he did to me.”

Ellie winced. Jake didn't actually believe that, did he? That this was pity or that he was somehow less because he'd been taken and tortured? She didn't know how he could believe that. She wasn't here out of pity—she was here because she still loved him. She hadn't stopped. Things were difficult between them, but she knew that even if it was over, if they were divorced, she would still have checked on him after something like this, but it wasn't over.

“Adams said you were a hero,” Ellie told him. “That you told them to take you instead of her.”

Jake turned his head away, not looking at her. “I'm tired.”

“We can—”

“It hurts,” he said, still not facing her. “Can you... find my doctor?”

Ellie nodded, though he couldn't see her and she knew it wasn't just about the pain. Jake wanted her to leave, and that hurt, but she knew she didn't want to stay here, either. She needed a minute to compose herself, and Jake had given her a way out.

She took it.

* * *

“Any word yet on how long your team is going to be in England?”

“Not yet,” Gibbs answered, looking out at the Thames. He'd needed some coffee himself, a way to clear his own head. He needed to be sure of what his gut was telling him. So far it hadn't steered him wrong, but this wasn't a good time for that to change. “Have a feeling at least one of them won't be back when most of us are.”

“Bishop,” Vance said, and Gibbs nodded, still watching the river. “How is Malloy?”

“Alive. In pain. Being a stubborn ass about questions and coming up with theories with his wife that might be wild goose chases,” Gibbs answered before taking another sip of his coffee.

“The first two are to be expected,” Vance said. “I've seen the reports. You think this is PTSD? That would be no surprise after what he went through. He's got no training against torture, not that we're aware of.”

“That your subtle way of hinting that maybe Malloy's deflecting suspicion by creating a wild theory?” Gibbs asked, almost amused. He shook his head. “I don't expect him to ever tell the whole truth about what happened to him. In part because he doesn't remember but in part because no one would. You don't talk about that kind of thing.”

“Some people say it helps.”

“They haven't actually been tortured, have they?”

Vance laughed. “Probably not. Still, it wouldn't hurt to have Malloy see some kind of counselor. Not that any of us are in a position to force that issue. He's a civilian now.”

“He was before.”

“He was attached to a federal agency then. You can bet your ass that the NSA would have made him go through at least one psych evaluation before allowing him to return to work. This law firm he's at now likely won't.”

Gibbs grunted. He wasn't a fan of shrinks himself. “I'm not going to make him do it. Bishop might be able to persuade him. Guess we'll see.”

“He's your friend, isn't he?”

Gibbs finished his coffee. He'd need another, but that could wait until he went back to the hospital. “I'm still waiting for word from Abby and McGee about the suspect Malloy gave us.”

“Malloy knew the man who tortured him? I thought the photos from the crash site didn't get a match on facial recognition.”

“Malloy and Bishop have a theory about the puppet master.”

“And it's crazy?”

“Man's supposedly dead, so you could say that.”

“Damn.” Vance was quiet for a minute, and then he asked, “You think they're right? This guy fake his death somehow or set it in motion before he died?”

“Still waiting on that, but it may have been personal. Not a larger terrorist threat.”

Vance grunted. “On the one hand, I'd be relieved to know that it wasn't going to end in more violence and innocent deaths, but on the other—we're already having trouble with jurisdiction. Malloy isn't military. The attack happened on foreign soil—”

“While he was in the car with two NCIS agents. One of them was injured and left behind, but the other died later at the hands of the same man who tortured Malloy. It's our case, Leon. It stays our case until I have this bastard. Both of them.”

“Agreed. Find them. Fast.”

* * *

“Elanor?” Ducky asked, concerned to see her pacing the hallway by herself. He would have expected her to be in the room with her husband. “Has something happened to Jakob? Did they have to do another surgery or more tests?”

She shook her head, halting her steps. She grimaced, running a hand through her hair. “No, they didn't—Jake should be fine. He just...”

“What is it, my dear? I do not know that I have ever seen you this upset before,” Ducky told her, frowning. She was normally quiet composed, though hardly the seasoned agent that others were. She was strong, if inexperienced, and while she could allow her doubts to trouble her, she had never seemed so raw and open about it as she did this moment, making it seem like her husband was in the hands of a killer all over again. “Well, with one exception, that of a few days ago when Jakob was still missing.”

She winced. “Ducky, is it... Could someone really blame themselves for being tortured?”

“Goodness. Is that what you believe Jakob is doing?”

She bit her lip, twisting it before responding. “Jake was talking about staying here, needing to prove himself at his new job, and I don't understand—he shouldn't have to. It's not about his job, but he said he didn't want fixing our marriage to be about... this. Like he thought I only pitied him and came back because he was abducted.”

“I thought you had begun to reconcile before that even occurred.”

“In the middle of it,” Elanor corrected. “We were on the phone, almost discussing it, and then the crash happened. I know he went through so much, and he hasn't actually talked about it, not to me, not to Gibbs...”

“That may take time, and Jethro would hardly be a good source for the sort of support Jakob would need after enduring what he did. Torture is... Well, it is an extremely personal thing. Remember that Abigail has told us that she got DNA evidence from Jakob's tormentor. It was all over his clothes. That man was very close to him, inflicting pain and no doubt subjecting him to mental abuse. Now from what little you have told me, I would venture to guess—no, not guess—to _say_ that Jakob endured a form of at least emotional abuse growing up. Yet that is not something that is common knowledge, is it? You did say that he does not like to discuss that particular aspect of his upbringing. Most people, even, I suspect, ones that have worked with him or known him for years, are unaware of his true parentage and his grandfather's actions regarding it.”

Elanor nodded. “You'd be right. I've never asked, but I'm not sure his brother even knows.”

“Perhaps not. It might be a very ugly skeleton in the family closet,” Ducky agreed. “You said that Jakob felt he had to be perfect, to reach impossible standards, and I cannot help but feel that in this case, he would believe he had failed spectacularly. He was captured. Tortured. And he may have told them something. We do not know.”

She swallowed, choking down something. “Jake was never trained. He wasn't an agent. He was a lawyer. He couldn't have expected to do what Tony or even McGee might have done if they were taken. I don't even know that I would have been able to—but he was brave, Ducky. He told them to take him and not Adams. That wasn't—he isn't a coward.”

“Indeed not. He is a very brave young man,” Ducky agreed. “However, even the strongest of person can break if pushed too far, and someone did their best to do just that with him. Even if he does not actually remember telling them anything, he must fear that he did, and he would be deeply ashamed of that.”

She winced, putting a hand in her hair and shaking her head. “There has to be something we can do. He's trying to shut me out. He says he's staying here, and it sounded almost like he didn't want me to stay with him—”

“Nonsense. That man has one of the most hopeless cases I've ever seen. Remember, though, that he is injured in such a way where he must feel himself a burden. He cannot use either of his hands, and I fear that sense of shame will only get worse when they want him to try solid food again.”

She flinched. “You're right. That will be bad. What do I do?”

“Remind him of his strengths, of your love for each other, and of what you have already overcome. It might not hurt to offer some future incentives as well.”

* * *

“Turner and Banks are not a match, not according to the DNA found at the bomb site,” Abby announced, seeing McGee's look and holding up a hand. “However, according to Banks' earlier medical records, he and Turner share a blood type. And Turner's is not the same as his mother's.”

“Abby, that doesn't—”

“Let me guess,” Tony interrupted. “The DNA from the bomb site has the wrong blood type.”

“Yep,” Abby said, grinning. “I guess they figured they didn't need to look into old records because they had Banks going in on CCTV and DNA for confirmation. Only trouble is—that's not Banks' DNA, not according to earlier medical records.”

“How did you get Charlie Banks' medical records?”

Abby just smiled. McGee sighed. He shouldn't have had to ask. She wasn't wrong, though. She was sure of it. Banks hadn't died in that bombing. He was still alive. He was out there. All they had to do was find him.

She was about say so when her phone rang. “Impeccable timing as always, Gibbs. I just finished telling Tony and McGee my results.”

“And?”

“Charlie Banks didn't die in that bombing. His DNA isn't a match for Turner's,” Abby reported. “Which I suppose someone could argue just meant that Banks wasn't Jacob Turner's father, but I was able to find older medical records that showed them sharing a blood type his mother doesn't have. And, more importantly—that the DNA they tested after the bombing doesn't have.”

“Nice work,” Gibbs told her. “Now where do we find him?”

She winced. “That's what I don't know. The cameras didn't pick him up leaving the bomb site—that was part of how he was able to convince everyone he was dead. McGee already checked the activity on his bank accounts and his phone. Nothing. He is playing dead, and so far, it's working.”

“Damn it,” Gibbs said just as Tony pulled away from the wall.

“Really, Abs?” Tony asked, his frustration drowned out by another yawn. “I stuck around 'cause I figured you'd have something for me, but all we know is that he's not Banks? How are we going to find him if he's still playing dead?”

“But,” Abby began, still hopeful, “considering that Jake knew he had a son that no one else knew he had... Jake might also know where he might hide that other people wouldn't even think to look. If he could give us a few pointers... we could speed things up a little.”

“I'll ask.”

* * *

“Thought they had that taken care of.”

Jake grimaced, leaning against the door to the room's bathroom and trying to stay upright. Moving had been a bad idea, but then he didn't want to stay in that bed any longer than he had to, and the need to answer nature's call seemed like a good enough reason to him to leave it. “Would you have left a catheter in, Gibbs? I don't think so.”

“Another minute, and you'll fall on your ass,” Gibbs said, coming over to him. “Where's Bishop?”

“Not sure,” Jake admitted. He closed his eyes, swallowing down the nausea. “Why... here?”

Gibbs shook his head, coming over to take Jake by the arm. “Get back in that bed before you break something else.”

Jake snorted. He almost said something about everything already being broken, but he knew it wasn't. He had been lucky in that respect. Even though he thought he remembered something about offering up his toes, too, like an idiot, none of them were broken. His legs had plenty of cuts, like the rest of him, but none were severe enough to keep him from walking.

“This stupidity have a reason or you just being stubborn?”

Jake met Gibbs' gaze. “I pulled my catheter. I think the reason is easy to guess.”

Though Gibbs didn't say anything, Jake thought he was trying not to laugh. He walked Jake back to the bed. “Sit. Stay.”

“I'm not a dog.”

“Every dog I ever had listened a hell of a lot better than you,” Gibbs agreed. “Abby thinks she found proof you were right about Banks. Need to know where he might be hiding.”

Jake stared at him. “I would say... my pain medication is too high, but I couldn't... drag the IV stand... so I'm not on anything... at the moment. What makes... you think I know... where he is? If I did... would have told you... when told you about... the rest. Oh, damn, that hurts.”

Gibbs shook his head. “You're an idiot. But you might know more than you think. Old habits die hard. They also bring down plenty of killers.”

Jake nodded. He could see that. Still, with his hand and his side throbbing, he couldn't think. “Need time to sort through... Most of what I know about Charlie is old... from law school.”

“Might still be relevant.”

“Might be,” Jake agreed. He closed his eyes, fighting the pain. “Might be another way.”

“Such as?”

Jake almost laughed. “You know... what Ellie's brothers did... first time they took me hunting?”

“Used you as bait.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team sets a trap.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is getting close to an end, which is both good and bad, but it's nice to have it more or less out of my system now. If only it was the only nagging idea for Jake/Ellie. I've got at least two other ones, and I was thinking of songs for them and what I would do if I was ever to vid again... Which really does make me quite crazy.
> 
> Still, this chapter should help resolve quite a bit.

* * *

“Team meetings,” Tony said, stifling another yawn as he took up a position against the wall in Jake's hospital room. “Can we call them campfires again? I kind of miss them.”

“Your campfires were pathetic,” McGee grumbled, only to get hit by Abby for saying it. He frowned, rubbing his arm, and she just glared at him. He sighed. “Sorry. I'm really tired. I didn't mean it, Tony.”

“I know you did, you never liked my campfires, but I will choose to ignore it,” Tony told him, since he'd at least gotten to close his eyes while they were waiting to tie Banks to this. Since he had, he was feeling a little generous. Not much, but some.

“I actually like the sound of campfires,” Bishop said, turning her head to the side as she considered it. “Though I suppose it could just be the thought of camping. Of a nice warm fire. Toasted marshmallows. S'mores...”

“That kinky sex you and Jake got up to—”

“What?” Jake asked, frowning. He looked at Bishop, who grimaced. “You told them?”

She shook her head. “No. It's just that there was this article in a magazine, and McGee was saying that the list wasn't possible, disagreeing with Tony who claimed to have done them, and I said they _were_ possible and there was a camping trip—”

“Too much information,” Gibbs said, silencing everyone.

“Agreed,” Jake muttered, shaking his head. Tony figured now was a bad time to congratulate him on making that particular number possible, but he could always do it later.

“Remind me to put you on my team if I ever get my own,” Tony told Bishop. “For the campfires. And maybe the oversharing.”

“Oversharing is good with me, too,” Abby said with a smirk, making Jake groan.

Ducky looked at Gibbs. “I fear you have no one to blame for this but yourself. If they had gotten any sleep, they would not be so easily distracted or as flippant as they now are.”

Gibbs grunted. “You want them to get away with this?”

“No,” Bishop said immediately. “They can't get away with hurting Jake. That's not happening.”

“Not to mention that they murdered innocent bystanders to get to this guy. If Banks wanted to go after the person who bombed his family, there were other ways,” McGee said. “If that was even his family.”

“So is now where Jake gives us places Charlie used to hang out that we can use to find him?” Abby asked, sounding a little too perky. Someone had fed her caffeine. Tony was jealous.

“This is the part where we discuss... letting them know I survived... and give them a chance to come after me,” Jake said, leaning back against his pillows. Tony frowned at him. This had to be Gibbs' idea, right? Why would Malloy ever suggest using himself as bait?

Bishop stared at her husband. “You're not really talking about using you as bait. You hated that idea when I said it might be possible to do with Parsa—”

“Parsa was different,” Jake said. “And not just because it was you. He had... ideals. Faith. He wouldn't have... been focused enough on you. And... I figured he planned on killing me first... anyway.”

She winced. “Jake—”

“I must go on the record as being quite opposed to this idea,” Ducky said. He turned to Jake. “You are not ready to leave this hospital. Your hand alone should tell you that. You cannot leave with it pinned in place as it is. And the amount of pain you're in—”

“No.” Jake shook his head. “It doesn't matter how much... it hurts. I can't sit here... while Charlie gets away with this.”

“Flushing him out may be the only way to catch either of them,” Gibbs said. “We don't have much to go on right now. One of them is a ghost. The other is a dead man.”

“Is it just my pain pills that made that sound wrong?” Jake asked, and Bishop shook her head. She wasn't the only one.

“No, that actually didn't make much sense,” McGee said. “Then again... we are all sleep-deprived.”

“He means that the man who tortured Jake is like a ghost,” Abby said. “I've got his DNA, but nothing to match it to. Nothing on facial recognition. No name. It's like he doesn't exist. And then Banks faked his death, so no one is looking for him. We'll have a hard time convincing anyone that he's behind this, even with what we know about his blood type and his son.”

“So... bait,” Tony agreed. He looked at Jake. “Think Ducky's right, though. You don't look like you'd survive the walk to the door, and that hand... It's still something out of a horror movie.”

“The swelling is down... infection treated. They can give me a regular cast,” Jake said. “Besides, Charlie knows I hate hospitals.”

“Everyone hates hospitals.”

“He knows me... well enough to know I wouldn't stay,” Jake insisted. “I know I'm not an agent... not trained. Also know... Charlie has a backup plan. He has a way out of this. It's... he always does. He built his legal cases with... three defenses. He knew loopholes in the law... Even if we find him and prove he faked his death... he could get away with everything.”

“He has to know you're alive by now, though,” Bishop said. “He would be monitoring us, and between our trips to the hospital and the media, he must know.”

“The media has been circulating the picture of our suspected terrorist,” McGee said. “They haven't said much about Jake himself—the death of Agent Waters has gotten more press, and no one even has a good picture of Jake. He's an 'unnamed civilian' and more of a footnote to the investigation, at least according to the press.”

“And there are agents all over this hospital. Interpol, local police... Hell, I bet the NSA has people here, too, even if they won't admit it,” Tony said. “It's not likely our ghost would be willing to get close to this place to attempt a move.”

“Charlie wouldn't. He avoided direct confrontation,” Jake said. “And if his death is his alibi, he won't risk it coming here.”

McGee frowned. “Then how do you know he'll come after you if we set a trap?”

“As far as Charlie knows, I think he's dead. The longer I live, the more I seem... recovered... The more likely I'll put it together. He'd have to stop that. It's... It may be that by going to NCIS, I... I forced his hand. He may not have planned on taking me... at all.”

“Only by going to NCIS, you'd already exposed the fake agents and could have told Waters and Adams a lot more than Charlie wanted you to,” Bishop said. “That was why they needed the agents, too. They had to know what you'd told them.”

“And when Waters said I hadn't told them anything... he died,” Jake said, looking down at his hands. “I... I don't know. I... I think he said Waters was useless... I... That's all... such a mess. I can't be sure...”

“Jake, please,” Bishop said, touching his arm in the wrong place. He jerked back in pain, and she flinched. “You can't blame yourself. And you don't have to do this to prove anything. Any one of us could have been caught and taken. We wouldn't have escaped. We would have been tortured as well.”

“But would you have talked?” Jake countered. “I... I can't even remember enough... to know that I did. Or didn't. I don't know.”

“Get his doctor,” Gibbs told Ducky. “We need that other cast. Now.”

* * *

“I am still against this plan.”

“We know, Duck,” Gibbs said, though he knew that the doctor wasn't about to abandon them in the middle of it. He would stick close, needing to make sure that Malloy came through it alive. Gibbs had counted on that. It was half the reason they were going forward. They had Ducky on their side in case something went wrong.

“McGee and Abby should have the surveillance ready on Jake's hotel room,” Bishop said, biting her lip. She hadn't come out and said it like Ducky had, but she didn't like this plan any more than he did, and it was obvious.

“Even with the pins removed and a new cast in place, it will be hours before Jakob is ready to leave, regardless of how stubborn you all are,” Ducky said. “They will have given him at least a local anesthetic before removing those pins, and I highly doubt they stopped there. He will have to sleep off the anesthesia before you attempt to move him.”

“Sounds like a good time for everyone to catch up on their sleep,” Gibbs said. “The next part will need them awake and alert.”

“At least you are finally giving them that,” Ducky said, still annoyed. Gibbs ignored it. He wouldn't feel like resting until this was over, but they couldn't push it any further than they already had. This was their best chance at catching Banks and his accomplice, but it still couldn't start until Malloy was reasonably able to leave the hospital. That meant getting the pins out of his hand and a regular cast in place, neither of which his doctors had wanted to do until Malloy uncharacteristically threatened to remove them himself.

“Even if Jake could have thought of more possibilities for where Charlie might hide, they weren't enough,” Bishop said. “He only knew Charlie well in law school, and that school was in the states. We're all fairly certain that he's still in England, but proving that will be very difficult.”

“It's the best plan, Duck.”

“It is nevertheless a bad one that puts Jakob at too much of a risk,” Ducky said, still fussing. Bishop gave him a smile, touching his arm. “I am sorry, Elanor. My fears must be making this worse for you.”

“Nothing would make it better,” she said. “I don't want to put Jake in this position again, but I think we have to. And if it works... then it will be worth it, I hope.”

The door opened, and the orderlies pushed Malloy back into the room. He looked to be out cold, a fact confirmed when they moved him back to his regular bed and he didn't so much as open his eyes. Gibbs grunted. They'd known this was coming, but somehow it still felt like a setback.

“Now we wait,” Bishop said, closing her eyes and leaning into Ducky's embrace.

* * *

“You know,” Tony said in their earpieces, “the idea was to make it look like you were actually capable of leaving the hospital.”

Jake laughed, leaning on Ellie as he did, and she held him, keeping him upright. Tony was right. Jake wasn't very steady on his feet, and she'd been relieved that they'd insisted on wheeling him out of the hospital. He probably couldn't have made that walk, and they'd be back at square one. As it was, this was too long a ride in the elevator. When Jake took the room, he'd been fine, and he wouldn't have thought anything of being ten floors up. It was only now that it was a problem.

“Tony, don't make him laugh,” McGee said. “You'll blow the entire thing by making a joke. If Banks is watching, and we think he has to be somehow, he can't know we're on comms with them.”

“This kind of reminds me... of that time in New York,” Jake said, half mumbling into Ellie's shoulder. “Do you remember that?”

She laughed then. “You were _so_ drunk. I thought for sure we'd have a repeat of our third date where you got a migraine and almost puked all over me.”

Jake sighed. “I'm sorry about my family... they were awful that night.”

“I never blamed you for your family,” Ellie said. “Even if they can be a bit stuffy sometimes.”

“I take it back,” McGee said. “They're actually kind of... good at this.”

“See? I told you they're really spies. All this lawyer talk is just a cover. Hey, Malloy, will you do Bond when you're in the room? I bet you have a great accent. Probably flawless. Not so sure about Bishop. Her Spanish is terrible.”

Ellie almost said something about that being on purpose, but she held it back. They were being ridiculous again. She and Jake were married and had been for years. That left them with plenty of history to use that could be applied to almost any situation. It was almost too easy.

The elevator finally stopped, and Ellie helped Jake out and into the hall. He pointed to his room, and she nodded, though she'd already been here before. “You know, I saw the way you left this place.”

“Oh, no,” Jake whispered. “You cleaned up after me. I'm never going to hear the end of this.”

“Of course not. Not when you're always fixing my messes.”

“You are... chaos in the flesh. I have... always loved that about you,” he said, smiling. “You were different from everything... I'd ever known.”

“You told me that before.”

“I know.” He leaned against the wall next to the door as she got out the key card. “I just... Sometimes I don't understand how we lost it. How we got to where we couldn't talk at all.”

“I think most people will tell you it's easy to do,” she said, opening the door. She took his arm, and he stumbled into the room. She shut the door with her foot, and Ducky came around the corner, followed by Gibbs. They were only supposed to be in the connecting room waiting for Charlie or the other man to show, but they must have heard Tony say how bad Jake seemed to be doing.

“Get him on the bed, Jethro,” Ducky ordered. “We are still certain that it is safe to speak in this room?”

“Only cameras and listening devices inside it are ours,” McGee said. “We've been checking, and we've got eyes on the hallway, stairs, and elevators. No one has been by the room since we did our own install. Same with the rooms on either side of Jake's, though as we thought, someone did try and book one of them. We're still waiting to see if either of our suspects shows his face.”

“You are all too loud when you're in my ear,” Jake muttered, but he waved Ellie off before she could take his earpiece out. “Remembered something... You said Charlie had no family?”

“Nope.”

“No wife?”

“Unless you mean Samantha Turner, who never did marry him or even put him on her son's birth certificate as the father, no,” Abby reported. “Why?”

“Last time I saw Charlie was at a law conference... Told Adams about it,” Jake said, closing his eyes. “We spent... the evenings together... only two married men... who weren't looking for a temporary replacement. He... wasn't married?”

“No, he never married. Not according to the records we've been over half a dozen times.”

Ellie frowned. “He lied to you. Was this conference before or after you almost hired him to defend me?”

“After.”

“Damn,” Tony muttered. “He could have been planning on getting revenge for a lot longer than we thought. He just... snapped when his kid got hurt or something.”

“Until we get Charlie, we won't know for sure,” Ellie said. She swallowed. “How long do we wait before the next phase?”

“Depends on how long it takes to have someone get that room next to you,” McGee answered.

“How about it, Bishop?” Tony asked. “You ready to cry on command?”

Tony was lucky he wasn't in the room with Gibbs just now. “Shut up, DiNozzo.”

* * *

“Any minute now,” Tony said over the comms. “Jake and Bishop have staged their fight—excellent work, by the way, that was not just believable, I actually thought you were fighting for real—so we should be seeing our guy any second.”

“If it was Banks or his accomplice that took the room,” McGee said. “We weren't able to get a good look at him on any of the cameras.”

“Which means it's got to be one of them,” Tony insisted. “No one else would bother hiding from the cameras.”

“Unless he's here to cheat on his wife or something,” McGee disagreed. “He could have other reasons for avoiding cameras.”

Jake groaned. He almost wished his pain medication was high enough to put him out for this part, though he knew he couldn't afford to be unconscious now. He just was tired of the bickering. He knew he wasn't an agent, but waiting on this kind of operation or a stakeout was like being tortured, even if there was no physical pain involved besides his existing injuries.

“Enough,” Gibbs barked out, and Jake closed his eyes with relief, welcoming the few minutes of peace he'd get before the two of them started up again. Ellie was with Ducky and Abby, supposedly in need of comfort after Jake's bitter comments—which were so convincing because they were all things he felt—and she was safe. That should make this easier, but it wasn't. Jake was tired of waiting. He just wanted this over with.

He looked up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the plaster again. If this went on much longer, he would need more pills.

“I'm surprised you let her go. Last time we talked, you made it sound like she was the best thing that ever happened to you.”

Jake looked over at the door to the connecting room. “I... She is, but... you...”

“I'm supposed to be dead. They did tell you that, didn't they?” Charlie asked, coming into the room, and Jake thought he saw a gun, though at this angle it was difficult to tell. “It must be quite a surprise, seeing me again.”

“Not when you had me kidnapped... and tortured,” Jake told him. “You blame me... for what she did?”

“He was my son.”

“You wanted him dead, or have you forgotten that?” Jake demanded, trying to leverage himself into sitting up with only three fingers to work with. “I don't even care... about what you did to me. You planted a bomb... killed seven people... made yourself as much a monster... as the man you were after.”

Charlie shook his head. “You have no idea. Think about what you would have done if it was your precious Ellie who'd been in that attack. If she'd died.”

“I'd have broken rules, yes... but not like you. I'd have given... every classified detail I had... to Gibbs and let his team... find the terrorists. It's what they do... and they're good at it. And I wouldn't... have had to ask. Ellie's family. They'd have done... anything to find who hurt her.”

“You had resources. I didn't.”

“You're lying,” Jake said. “Even if I didn't tell you about Sammy's choice... You could have come to me. I wouldn't have given you classified intel... but I would have pointed you to someone who could help.... to Gibbs. You could have had justice... without becoming a monster.”

“I did what I had to. That Bakari would have always been free. Forever. He... He'd recruit more of them. Now... Now they're all hunting for him. He'll die.”

“Bakari is too careful to be caught... framing him didn't work. I could... poke holes through that case, and I'm not a defense attorney. You... were. You know better. Did you kill the man you... left in your place? Did you kill those men... who took Agent Waters?”

“No, that was your friend. He took care of Waters, too,” Charlie answered. “All I did with them was move the bodies.”

“And Ensign Doyle?” Jake asked, fighting nausea. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, though he knew that Charlie wouldn't confess unless he though he was going to be able to kill Jake and silence all of this with him. “Or Murray. You tried to frame the Moving Finger with them, didn't you?”

“One act wasn't enough. That idiot from the NSA just kept saying they weren't a threat. You and your wife knew differently, but you weren't admitting it. Getting her involved seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“It was sloppy,” Jake said. “Who killed Doyle?”

“Murray. I had to get Sloane to deal with him because he started coming apart before Gibbs arrested him.”

Jake nodded, trying to think if there was anything else he needed to ask about, and there must be because no one had broken down doors yet. He closed his eyes, breathing out in a hiss. “What about the SME?”

“The what?”

“The subject matter expert. Your NSA leak.”

“Him. Oh, he was very helpful at first, just wanted the money. Then when he heard about the bombing, he panicked, wanted to run... Even tried to set up someone else to take the fall by switching his id with another agent's. Now that one was an idiot. You really should talk to your agency about their hiring policies.”

“I'm not NSA anymore.”

“Right,” Charlie agreed. “You shouldn't be anything at all. He said he'd made sure you'd die. You were supposed to bleed out, nice and slow, but they got there in time, and here you are, being stubborn as always. Knew you wouldn't stay in the hospital for long, though. Not you. You hate them. Especially since your grandfather was able to make so many doctors look the other way, wasn't he?”

“You bastard,” Jake said, aware that everyone had heard that and that it would be part of the official record when Charlie was tried. “I trusted you.”

“Not enough to tell me about my own son.”

“You wanted me to pay Sammy to get rid of the baby,” Jake said. He shook his head. “You lost all rights to him back then. I... thought you... were married. I didn't... want any part of telling you... Couldn't predict what you'd do... if his existence threatened... your perfect life and the fictional woman... you swore you couldn't live without.”

“You were the one that was that pathetic,” Charlie snapped. “To hear you go on about her that night... It was disgusting. I thought about killing her, even started to plan it out, but then terrorists put my son in the hospital, and I knew I had other uses for you.”

Jake didn't understand. “You weren't like this. You were a decent person once. We were friends. You... How could you change... so much?”

“You don't want to know,” Charlie told him. “Now we need to finish this. I'll make it relatively painless this time. You're going to overdose. A sad, tragic result of your injuries, the PTSD, and losing your wife.”

“Wait,” Jake said as Charlie came closer, not sure that he was faking the fear. “The hacker. You had one, didn't you? You never—”

“Why does that matter?”

“Ellie always has to have all the pieces,” Jake said. “The habit... rubbed off on me. Need to know... how... not just why.”

Charlie shrugged, picking up Jake's prescription from where Ellie had left it on the dresser. “I suppose I can tell you. I was paid to defend one a few years back. I got him off. He was grateful, but still expensive. You don't really need his name, do you?”

“No,” Gibbs said from behind him. “We don't.”

“We're actually really good at finding that sort of thing ourselves,” Tony agreed, coming in from the other door. “Drop the gun, Banks.”

Charlie glared at Jake. “You set me up.”

“You always were really lousy at chess,” Jake told him. “Never thought far enough ahead.”

“Should kill you anyway,” Charlie said, not lowering the gun.

“You do, and you're dead.”

“That may be what he wants, Boss,” Tony said, smiling. “He did just incriminate himself. A lot. He gave us pretty much everything we needed and then some. He's figuring on us killing him so he doesn't have to go to prison.”

“No,” Jake said. “Who would take care of his son if he died?”

Charlie swore, dropping the gun.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the sort of epilogue part, where everything is back on track and more or less resolved. Not perfectly, because not everything works that way, but on its way, I think, which is a good thing.
> 
> And yes, this went longer than intended and is still wanting more, but I think this is a good stopping point, so I'll go with that.

* * *

“I don't suppose we can persuade you to return to the hospital,” Ducky began, and Jake gave him a look, snorting. Tony just shrugged. Ducky should have known better. There wasn't a person on this team that liked hospitals, though they'd all had their turns in them over the years. Then again, Ducky hadn't been on the comms for the whole confrontation with Banks. He'd missed what that guy said about Jake's aversion to hospitals.

“No.”

“I thought not,” Ducky agreed, letting plenty of disappointment creep into his voice, “but I needed to ask. You know you don't have to act as bait any longer.”

Tony frowned. “Uh, Ducky, we only caught Banks with that trap. The other guy is still out there somewhere.”

“Tony,” Abby said, and McGee echoed it. Tony gave them a look. What was he supposed to do, lie? They hadn't found the man who kidnapped and tortured Jake. Banks got caught, and what Jake managed when the man came after him would put him away for a long time. He'd confessed to almost everything, and that was a good thing.

“Got Banks,” Gibbs said. He looked over at Jake. “He talked plenty before. He's not talking now, but he might still give us the man he hired to go after you.”

“Gibbs has a point,” McGee agreed, relief brightening his face as he smiled. “He won't want to go down for the murders he said were done by your kidnapper.”

“You're assuming... Charlie will go down for them... at all,” Jake said, shaking his head. “He will probably... plead insanity... and win. I told you... he had a plan... in case faking his death didn't work.”

“That is one very disturbed young man,” Ducky said, shaking his head as spoke. “I would not care to do a psychological profile of his mind, I have to say. I am terribly sorry you ended up a victim of his schemes, Jakob.”

Jake lowered his head. “I'm only sorry... didn't realize what kind of a man... he really was. There were signs, but I... didn't see it.”

“Looking for the good in people is not something to be ashamed of,” Bishop said, touching his cheek and looking worried. “No need for you to be as paranoid as the rest of us.”

“Remember, when you're looking for bad guys, they all look like bad guys,” Tony said, and Jake snorted. “Nice work, by the way. You basically made our case for us.”

“Had to keep him talking,” Jake said. “Wasn't sure... you were still coming.”

Gibbs snorted. “You know better than that.”

Jake shrugged, then winced, and Bishop rose, going across the room for his prescription. Tony knew they'd taken one as evidence, but someone had already replaced it. Jake opened the hand with only a couple of broken fingers palm up, and Bishop put two pills into it. He swallowed them, and Bishop held up a glass with a straw for him. He sipped from it, closing his eyes.

After he finished, she leaned over and kissed the top of his head before taking the glass back. Tony tried not to notice. This was awkward. More so because of Jake's injuries and him being so damned helpless.

“Maybe we should go take another crack at Banks, boss,” Tony said. “He might be willing to talk now.”

Jake snorted, but Ducky nodded. “In any case, it is time we all got some rest—especially you, Jakob. You are clearly in pain, and you still need to heal.”

“Oh, before I go,” Abby said, going to the door and picking up a bag. She reached into it and pulled out a stuffed cookie. “I know the food thing is more Ellie's than yours, but I wanted something more than just a teddy bear and the Big Ben one was just wrong somehow.”

She set it in Jake's lap. Bishop smiled at her. “Thank you, Abby. It's more fitting than you know.”

* * *

“You don't have to do this, you know.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, reaching over to adjust Jake's new pillow behind his head. He gave her another look, and she reminded herself to make him an appointment to see an optometrist. She hadn't found his glasses anywhere in the room, and she thought maybe he'd been wearing the spare set when he was taken. She wasn't sure where he'd lost the originals, but he needed a new set.

“Jake, you can't really use either of your hands, and since you won't go back to the hospital, you need someone with you,” she said, sitting down next to him. “And even if you didn't, I want to be here.”

He shook his head. “I don't want you... to feel you have to stay. Your team... your family... is back in the states. I... I have to do this for me. That... doesn't mean you have to do it for me.”

“The team hasn't even gotten on a plane yet, remember? I'm not so sure any of them is going to leave before they find the man who actually tortured you, even with Charlie in custody. And I told you before—we can't work out our problems with oceans dividing us. We need to actually talk, and I have you as a captive audience now.”

He snorted. “You... were the one that didn't want to talk.”

She nodded, wincing with that memory. She had avoided him, more than ever, in those last few weeks. She'd spoken to him more when she was hiding what Parsa did from him, and that was ridiculous.

“I didn't know how to talk to you,” she admitted. “The whole case—it didn't feel like it should have affected me like it did, but I couldn't stop thinking about it, kept seeing their bodies... Maybe I thought you'd be mad—I was being haunted by a job you didn't want me doing—or maybe it was because they were two ordinary women who'd died for no good reason. I still don't know.”

Jake touched his good fingers to her cheek. “I don't hate your job. I... worry about your job. I don't want you hurt. And it would have upset me... but not as much as you... keeping it from me. I... I was trying to find a way... to tell you I had that job offer. I wasn't sure if... leaving the NSA would make any difference. You weren't there for me to ask. I... In the end, it didn't seem to matter if I was there or not. And being across an ocean had a lot of appeal... because being close to you when we were so distant... hurt. I actually think it hurt more than any of what he did to me.”

“Jake—”

“I'm not saying I blame you,” Jake told her, lowering his hand. “I don't. We... both created the mess we were in. I... I was holding too much to what we were... before. I still wanted you to be... the you that you were, maybe even hoping... you would give up and go back to the NSA... and we'd be fine again... I didn't change. You did. And I didn't accept it, didn't meet that change... I did blame NCIS.”

“It was never just the jobs,” she said. “I think part of the problem was that we let the NSA be the main—the only thing—we had in common.”

“We've always been... different. Opposite.”

“Not completely,” she disagreed. “Yes, you're order. I'm chaos. That's not all we are, though. You always pushed me for more on my theories, made me work for them, and I always gave you the freedom you needed. You relax with me, and that's why it's so obvious when you're tense—because most of the time that fades away just sitting next to me. And I've always held onto the fact that you would pull me back, stop me from losing myself and give me a place to go to when I needed to feel that sense of home, of security.”

“We stopped be able to talk,” he said. “Those feelings... don't come as easily when you can't talk. I couldn't relax—there was always too much... I couldn't say. And you didn't feel secure... when you thought I was holding back from you.”

“Do you feel like we lost that completely?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Me, either. I think we looked in the wrong places for solutions, but we didn't understand what was actually coming between us. We didn't just lose the ability to debrief—we stopped doing the things we did when we were. Like... those chili cheese fries. Or the hours we'd spend picking out your ties according to whatever crisis was going on at the time. It was the little stuff that slipped away without us even realizing it.”

“I'd forgotten about the ties.”

“Me, too. I think you and Tony could have a competition, you know. He'd be jealous if he knew the extent of your collection.”

“Says the woman who had about as many variations... on tie associations as she does food connections.”

She smiled. “I may have doubled your collection, but you had plenty before we even met.”

“Yes,” he agreed, looking away again. She touched her hand to his cheek, and he sighed. She knew that the ties were a small defiance, one of his petty rebellions against his grandfather, though no one would have known it when all of his ties seemed sedate. If his brother's story about the pinstripe was to be believed, though, it was a lot more effective than anyone would have thought.

“I still love you,” she said. “I know we still haven't figured everything out, and things are still complicated—you have this job here, and mine is back in the US, but we are going to find a way to make this work somehow. I'm not leaving before you're healed.”

He put his good hand over hers. “I don't think I could ever stop loving you, though I might have thought I had to try. Still, Ellie, I don't want you... to feel you have to stay. I can—”

“I want to be here. I want to be with you. It's not pity.”

* * *

“You gonna finish that?”

Malloy grimaced, shaking his head. “No.”

Gibbs gave him a look, but the other man didn't make any attempt to go back to his straw. With his refusal to let anyone feed him, Malloy was stuck with broth or protein shakes, a diet that Ducky was far from happy with, and Gibbs figured this was the reason why—he wasn't even eating them.

“You know we can take you back to the hospital, hook you up again.”

“No.” Malloy shifted in his seat. He closed his eyes with a sigh. “All these protein shakes seem to taste the same—like crap. If I try and choke any more of it down, I'll puke, which doesn't help anything.”

“The pills you're on are supposed to be taken with food.”

“I already had this lecture from Ducky _and_ Ellie,” Malloy said. “Ellie at least volunteered to track down smoothie shops to add in more variety. Ducky was more of your opinion—that you're going to start force-feeding me next.”

Gibbs grunted. “Not planning on letting you kill yourself after all we did to find you.”

“I'm not suicidal.”

Gibbs nodded. He didn't really think so. In some ways, Malloy was handling being kidnapped and tortured better than he should be. “You having nightmares yet?”

“No. Right now the pain medication keeps me sleeping through the night. I'm more worried about what happens when they take me off it,” Malloy said, lifting his hand and moving his unbroken fingers. “Also not looking forward to physical therapy, but they think I'll need it for the one hand.”

“DiNozzo's planning on making a small horror film for you.”

Malloy grimaced. “I'd rather not have the reminder, though I can see why he'd think it was a good idea, especially after the Addams family.”

Gibbs shrugged. “You'd give Abby something to use for her Halloween party, and that is a big deal to her.”

“I didn't say I'd stop them,” Malloy said, leaning back in his chair. “It's not like I don't owe all of you. I know I do. I did before any of this started.”

Gibbs reached for his coffee. “You still feel like some kind of outsider?”

“Is that why you think I want to stay?” Malloy countered. He shook his head. “I told you before, this was an opportunity to do the kind of law I always wanted to be a part of, but it's not just that. I trusted a man who murdered people. I was taken and tortured... And I don't—I can't go back to what I was, and even if I could... It's all so... disempowering.”

“You're not weak.”

Malloy snorted. “What part of kidnapped and tortured did you miss, Gibbs? I couldn't stop any of that. It was like being a child all over again, being helpless...”

“Your grandfather abused you.”

“Charlie tell you that? Because I know I didn't,” Malloy said. He looked out at the city, shaking his head as he did. “I need to know that I can do this job on my own merits, that it wasn't just a part of his manipulation. I told Ellie she doesn't have to stay, but she thinks she does.”

“You've got three working fingers,” Gibbs reminded him. “That's not weakness. That's fact.”

“Gibbs, I'm not broken. You and the others can go home.”

“This isn't over.”

“Charlie lost,” Malloy said. “We caught him and got him to confess to almost everything. He probably killed the man he was working with, but he hates me so much he won't admit that because he wants me looking over my shoulder for the rest of my life, thinking that bastard is still out there waiting for another chance at me.”

“You really believe that?”

“It's what I would do if the positions were reversed, which is the really scary part, isn't it?”

* * *

“Well?”

“I was afraid I'd have to say you should never go shopping with Abby again, but I am glad I was wrong about that,” Jake said, forcing himself out of his chair and over to where Ellie stood. He wasn't sure where she'd picked up this outfit, but he liked it. He could see Abby's influence in the accessories—Ellie didn't usually do jewelry or anything, but she had a couple of studded bracelets with the lace dress and leather jacket. While it wasn't something he would have thought Ellie would have bought on her own, it looked good on her.

She smiled. “I think that's a compliment.”

“It is,” Jake told her. “You look beautiful, but then you always do.”

“It's all wrong for this, isn't it? Abby could pull it off, but I'm supposed to be going in as the wife of this very professional lawyer, and I don't look the part at all,” Ellie said, twisting the bracelet around on her wrist. “I should have bought something more practical—”

“Ellie, you look fine, and if you had gone for something more 'practical' instead, all you would be doing was fidgeting and looking uncomfortable. I know I said that the jeans and sweater you got away with at the NSA would be a bad idea, and I stand by that.”

“Wait,” Ellie said, turning to leave and going back into the bathroom. Jake sighed, not sure why she was so nervous. He was the one that still had to prove his worth despite the lack of useable fingers, not her. She didn't even have to come with him. He'd told her to go help the local NCIS office, but she wouldn't listen. “Okay, better or worse?”

At first, Jake didn't know what she'd changed until he realized she'd added a pair of leggings. He swallowed. “Um...”

“Bad?”

He shook his head. “No. Just... another reason why I hate not having use of my hands.”

“Oh?” Ellie teased, and he rolled his eyes as she laughed, wrapping her arm around his. “I'll take a raincheck on that, then.”

He snorted. “Ellie—”

“You realize that's the first time we've actually almost discussed the sex part since you got abducted?” She shook her head. “I was starting to think maybe that was an issue for us, too.”

“I don't think our intimacy issues were ever about... physical attraction. More about... the lack of trust created by the silence between us,” Jake said, though he knew she was right. He hadn't actually thought about doing more than a kiss—and most of them very platonic—since he'd been taken.

“We have that back now, don't we? The trust?”

He wasn't sure how to answer that. He knew he still worried she hadn't stayed for the right reasons and still hated himself for forcing that on her, and he hadn't talked to anyone about his time in captivity. It wasn't because he didn't trust her. He was so confused by and ashamed of the whole thing that he couldn't make himself discuss it with anyone.

“Jake?”

He leaned his head against hers. “I... I still feel like I shouldn't have made you stay. And I know I haven't told you everything...”

“You're still healing,” she said, hugging him, though not as tight as she would have before he got hurt. “It's going to take time, but we'll get there. I know we will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did give in to the idea of another fic, a follow up mixed with a crossover, Doesn't Stop the Pain.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Doesn't Stop the Pain](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8019109) by [writingfromdarkplaces](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingfromdarkplaces/pseuds/writingfromdarkplaces)




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